The Open Window
by aliross33
Summary: An unfortunate event brings Luke and Lorelai together, 3,000 miles from home. Complete story.
1. Chapter One

A/N: Characters are not mine.

And not to be cliché, but this my very first fan fiction.

* * *

Luke stood in the shower, hand against the wall, head bowed in frustration. Water sprayed the back of his neck and he tried desperately to ignore the persistent, achy feeling in his groin. It had been almost a full week since there'd been any kind of relief to speak of.

And even then, it was in his sleep, just a natural reaction from his body, a sort of physical non-sequiter. He felt like a 12-year-old, washing his sheets in the middle of the night, trying not to wake anyone. 'This is ridiculous,' he thought. 'You're almost 40, for chrissakes, and suddenly it's like puberty all over again.'

He tried not to think about it, though knew why he just couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. This had happened with Rachel, too, after she left.

The first few years he knew Lorelai, when she first started coming to the diner- leaning over the countertop in her low-cut shirts, cocking her eyebrow, biting her lip and giving him that particular look- she was easily the female lead in every fantasy he had. He didn't think twice about it, feel guilty over it, or let it interfere with their casual exchanges.

It was just a part of his routine. Every morning, almost as soon as he stepped into the shower, before his head was totally clear from sleep, he would wait patiently for the hot water to kick in and close his eyes. Frames flickered through his mind's eye in rapid succession- grabbing her waist, sliding hands up her sides, under her shirt, clutching her thighs, pushing her up against the wall of the bedroom, hoisting her up onto his hips, listening to her pant in his ear… it didn't take much.

Afterward, he'd let the stream of water hit his face, slap the soapy washcloth around a bit and be ready to start his day, clean and alert. There was no feeling attached, no yearning, no emotion. He didn't think twice about it.

At least, not until he was in a relationship.

It stopped when he dated other people. Everything stopped, or changed somehow, or moved forward, it seemed. While he was with Nicole, or with Rachel, he was obviously forced to adjust his routine. He considered it one of the many inconveniences that come with being in a serious relationship, but figured it was a small price to pay for all of the good things that are supposed to come along with it. His shower time was considerably shorter, sure. But he had someone to share a closet with, someone to help him to bed after dozing off on the couch. Those things were nice. And he was usually successful in avoiding thoughts of Lorelai handing him the conditioner while he was shampooing.

Rachel and Nicole, his two major relationships, were completely different from one another, in terms of the way they dictated Luke's sex life. Rachel's libido had proven far stronger than his from the very beginning; the first time they dated seriously, she demanded it morning, noon and night, teaching him along the way and attentively moulding him into precisely what she looked for in a lover.

Though she was thoroughly exhausting, both in body and in spirit, he began to love the element of surprise and chaos she brought to his sheltered world, the way she coaxed him out of his shell, the way she opened new doors to him, to see things in new ways, to try out a new extension of himself. It was the first time he'd had sex on a regular basis, and it wasn't difficult to get used to. But it wasn't long before their insistent, purely carnal acts become something much more- more slow and meaningful, complete with long looks, tenderness, passion, candles, lots of those bare-faced heartfelt expressions of true love. It wasn't long before he regarded her as not only that first love, but his life, the thing he'd go to any lengths to protect. And, predictably, it wasn't long after that that she left.

After their break-up, it was immediately clear to everyone around him that he had been ripped open emotionally. And dealing with the town was hard enough. But her sudden departure was made worse by the fact that his body didn't really seem affected by it… that is to say, it went about it's daily motions, like any healthy body, demanding food and water and physical activity and everything else. Mentally, he was destroyed. Yet every morning, without fail, he was left with a blatant, and soon quite painful, reminder that she wasn't there. He had to go back to depending on himself for that sort of thing, because she was gone. And he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it, because reliving anything sexual would be tracing back steps into an area of his mind he was struggling to leave behind.

With Nicole, however, it had been quite different. Everything with Nicole had been different, to be honest. Though she was attractive, and attracted to him, their sexual encounters were rather perfunctory, often polite affairs. They never lasted long, because lord knows that would've been distasteful, not to mention time-consuming.

You know, there comes a certain intimacy with someone once you've seen them orgasm; you've watched as they've been at their most uninhibited, their least controlled. It's even been at your hands, you're the cause of that wrinkled brow, the shuddering body, that look of unbridled lust. That was the best thing about being intimate with someone for Luke, being able to make someone he loved feel sort of the physical equivalent of that happiness inside them, and the satisfaction that comes along with it.

Only with Nicole, that bond didn't really exist between them, at least not on his part. He was careful with her, considerate of her needs, but rather… passionless, sort of dutiful. He had trouble pinpointing why, but he knew, even then, that Lorelai's perfume stirred more in him than what he and Nicole shared in their bed a few nights a week.

And as much as he tried not to think about Lorelai that next morning, sometimes it couldn't be helped.

But his feelings for Lorelai, after Nicole cheated on him, grew into something quite powerful. The way he'd been so sexually attracted to her in the beginning of their relationship… that's what he was experiencing now, only in his heart. The thought of them together, the thought of her expressing an interest in him, the idea that maybe he could share his life with her, made him ache inside. Not completely unlike the ache he felt down below as well. An intense longing that he had no sense of control over.

It was a thing with him. While he and the Lorelai in his head had enjoyed many years of passionate sex, once his real feelings entered into it, he just couldn't bring himself to do it anymore. He felt that... to imagine her, while he did something like that, would be like defiling her or… or... making her dirty in some way. He couldn't quite explain it, but he just didn't want to expose her, even a fictional version of her, to the dark and seedy side of his mind. He knew, standing in that shower, that the next time Lorelai was the cause of his orgasm, it would have to be a personal appearance.

He slid open the shower door, frustrated but determined to end this silly mess that had gone on too long. He finished getting ready and descended the stairs, rolling up his flannel sleeves and adjusting his cap. Today was going to be the day that he finally told her how he felt. Because, dammit, even if she rejected him, then maybe he'd be able to move on and actually have a real orgasm.


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Characters borrowed.

* * *

He was going over the process in his mind, trying to work out just what the hell he was going to say to her. It occurred to him that maybe it would be best to act as if the idea had, you know, just hit him suddenly- it would certainly be less creepy, he thought, than pulling her aside and telling her that he had been completely consumed by her for years, that she had made him emotionally stunted toward other women, that he would try and change if he had to, just to be good enough for her, just so she'd give him a chance.

Yeah, he definitely understood now why Jess just dropped the bomb and ran.

"I was just sort of thinking, you know… that maybe…" he mumbled under his breath, trying on the words. "Well I'm single right now, you know, with the divorce and everything finally going through, and… since you're single right now too…"

She was single, wasn't she? He decided to overlook the thought, but made a mental note to strike up a casual conversation with Patty later.

"So, maybe we should be, um… single together. Only, not single. Because we'll be, you know, like together."

This wasn't going to go well at all.

Luke mulled all this over as he unloaded the day's shipments in the storage area, then moved into the main room and began overturning chairs. The sun would be up soon, so he figured he had a good three hours to sort his head out before Lorelai came in for breakfast.

Just as he overturned the last chair and stepped behind the counter, he heard what sounded like a muffled thud at the front door. He paused in his tracks for a moment, then walked over and twisted the blinds open. He peered out of the cold glass and saw nothing in particular, until his eyes adjusted a bit to the darkness. His gaze shifted downward when he noticed some movement, and he realized that just in front of his door was a silhouetted figure, huddled on the step. It was her.

He flipped on the outside lights and swung open the door. "What are you doing!" He cried, stepping outside and closing the door behind him. "Lorelai, do you know what time it is? What's wrong?" Her face was in her hands, and her knees drawn up to her chest. He sat down on the step next to her, unsure of what to do. His immediate thought was that she somehow found out about his plans and had issued some sort of preemptive strike, so horrified at the thought of him expressing interest in her that she came to stop him. He knew this was ludicrous and that she couldn't read his mind. At least, he hoped she couldn't.

Her shoulders were shaking, she was crying. It must be Rory. "Is it Rory? Did something happen?" His heart was pounding in his ears and he felt helpless. She shook her head, almost imperceptibly, letting out a shuddering sigh. He followed suit, releasing his breath, and waited patiently for her to gather herself together and talk. If Rory was okay, it couldn't possibly be that bad, he thought, and relaxed his shoulders.

He scooted closer so that they were hip to hip and rubbed her back aimlessly for a few moments. She looked up at him and pursed her lips, searched his eyes and took in his deeply concerned look. It made her eyes fill again, but she held her composure.

"Luke, I... I got a call a couple hours ago from Donald. Mia's son."

Luke's heart dropped, and he shut his eyes for a brief second. He felt the color draining from his face, and wished she'd take back what she'd just said.

When Lorelai didn't continue, he barely managed to get the words out. "Why, what happened?"

Lorelai reached over his knee and took his hand. "Honey, Mia had a heart attack yesterday afternoon. They um, they drove her to the hospital, she was there for a few hours before going into some kind of cardiac arrest, and then she died." He'd never heard her speak so deliberately. "Donald said that the funeral is this weekend and he asked that we both be there, he said that… he said that he knew how important it would have been to her for us to be there."

Luke sighed and nodded. "Of course we'll go, how could we not go," he said in a strained voice. Lorelai tried to think of something she could say to comfort him, but knew that if there was nothing anyone could say to her to ease the pain, there was probably little she could offer Luke. They'd been silent for a long time. "He said she went peacefully, she wasn't in any pain or anything when she died," she offered.

He abruptly cleared his throat, startling her. He stood up, dropping Lorelai's hand. "I'll um... I'll call the airport and um… make reservations."

Lorelai stood up with him and brushed off her pants. It suddenly occurred to her that Luke had no idea how to book a flight. "No, Luke, don't worry about it. I've got the number of my mother's travel agent at home, I'll call them as soon as they open and get us seats on the next flight out. Do you mind if we leave tonight?"

"No, I'll just call Caesar and Lane and see if they can take over for a few days." He stepped behind the counter and reached for the phone, relieved to have something specific to do with his hands.

Lorelai crossed the threshold of the diner. "Hey Luke? It's not even… it's 5:45 in the morning. Maybe you should a little while before calling anyone."

"Uh… right." He shifted, keeping his body stiff, hands jammed in his pockets. He didn't look like he was about to cry, but he did look like he needed to be alone. His eyes searched the floor.

"Ok well… I'm gonna go home and start packing. I need to go to the inn and make some arrangements if I'm going to be… gone awhile. I'll come by this afternoon and give you all the travel details when I know more. Okay?"

Luke finally looked up and made eye contact with her for the first time since hearing the news.

He thought about Mia, mainly about how much she had helped him when his parents had passed away. She was her mother's closest friend, and having someone there who knew and loved the same person he did made him feel a bit better. Mia was his greatest source of comfort then, always consoling him when he needed it and saying the right things at the right times- something he had never been able to master. He wondered if he was going to be able to do that now, for the people who were bound to be affected by Mia's death in the same way that he was affected by his mother's. People like Lorelai and Rory, who depended on her.

He didn't break his gaze and he stepped around the counter and swept Lorelai up in a hug. She immediately broke down, letting her body go limp as she squeezed her arms around his neck. He pressed his head down into her as she sniffled against his shoulder, comforted by the fact that he could comfort someone else. "Okay," he replied.

They were both relieved not to be alone in this situation, to have someone to share the burden of misery with. His mind drew an unintentional parallel between Lorelai and Liz, which he immediately pushed to the back of his mind. But it was true that, years ago, he had felt the same relief wash over him as he realized that he had someone who was going through it all with him. It was one of the few times in his life that he had let down his guard for someone else, and let emotion and love and pain flow freely from his body and trust that it was going to a safe place, to someone who was feeling the same things.

He may not have been able to do it in a relationship, but he knew how to do it when it really counted.

Luke felt her release her grip, and he loosened his arms from about her waist, ducking his head down and looking into her eyes.

"It's going to be okay."

"I know," she said, giving him a half-hearted smile. She stepped back from him, squeezed his hand and stepped out into the night. As the bells on the diner door signaled her exit, his thoughts traveled back to earlier, to his plans to finally tell her how he felt, that he wanted to be romantically involved with her. All of that had seemed so pressing just an hour ago.

It all seemed so much more frivolous now.

* * *

Chapter 3 will be up soon. Any thoughts?  



	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Yes, these characters are mine.

* * *

"Thanks again, Sookie," Lorelai said through the window. "We'll call you when we get there." She blew a kiss and walked to the back of the car.

Lorelai began yanking the suitcases out of the trunk before Luke stopped her and motioned for her to get up onto the curb. He grimaced under the weight of her bags, but slid them next to her wordlessly.

He stepped onto the curb with her, their bags between them- his small blue duffel bag, her black suitcase and the garment bag that housed their formal clothing for the funeral.

He peered into her eyes for a minute, and his forehead unwrinkled as he adjusted his cap. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, a man in work gloves and a fluorescent yellow vest walked by, blowing an ear-piercing whistle. "Keep it moving! Let's go!"

Luke jumped a little, but picked up their bags and walked through the automatic doors without a second glance at her. She followed just a few steps behind.

Everything had been sort of hazy since Donald had called and given her the news, but Lorelai was clear-headed enough to know that this was really weird, this whole situation. She had thought about going on vacation with Luke before, but in her head it had never been this uncomfortable or awkward – quite the opposite, if anything. Then again, her fantasies didn't have her attending a funeral either, so she was going to have to adjust regardless.

After checking in, handing off their luggage and going through security, they made their way through the maze of gifts shops and gates until finally spotting the sign above the counter that read, "SANTA BARBARA – 6:10 – ON TIME." Luke checked his watch. "We still have an hour and a half to kill. You wanna get somethin' to eat?"

Lorelai nodded. The lump in her throat was beginning to get painful; it had been lodged in there for a good twelve hours now.

She looked up at Luke, who was showing absolutely no sign of emotion. This wasn't unusual, of course, but she was normally good at handling him at face-value. She knew what lines to cross and which to stay clear of, when to flirt shamelessly and when to be straight with him. But when it came to this raw level of emotion, she was somewhat surprised to find herself at a loss. She looked at his set jaw and steady eyes and wished she knew what was going through his head.

She wondered what he wanted to say outside on the curb, if it was like, "Lorelai, I love you more than anything," or more like "I forgot extra socks." Or maybe it was just, "I'm scared and I don't want to go."

She wondered, for the thousandth time that afternoon, how he was handling all this. If it brought back memories of his dad's funeral, or his mom's for that matter. She wondered if he was nervous about flying, or about seeing Mia's family, or about seeing her cry, or if he was going to cry himself.

Luke could feel her eyes burning a hole into his face, but kept gaze roaming the concourse for anything that seemed even somewhat palatable. Eventually he gave in and glanced down at her, but she didn't look away like he expected.

"What?"

"I um, it's just that I'm not really that hungry, now that I think about it." He looked at her like she was crazy, which was, at least, something. She knew that face, it was comforting. She decided to stop trying to read him and just act as normally as possible, given their situation.

Maybe, though, a little liquor would help coax his heart out onto his sleeve.

"But let's get a drink, shall we?"

She linked her arm through his and they made their way to something called Concords, a restaurant lounge that reminded him of a sleazy hotel singles bar. "It looks like a Starbucks," she noted, flopping down on a maroon loveseat.

He ordered a beer, she a martini, and they sipped in companionable silence for a few minutes before one of them spoke.

"So. Are you nervous about flying?"

He considered it for a moment. "I'm not really nervous."

She didn't look like she believed him.

"I mean, it just doesn't seem natural to me sometimes," he continued. "I get the physics behind it and everything, how they can put this machine in the air that weighs like fifteen tons, but I'm still astounded at the fact that people have enough faith in the damn thing to carry them safely for thousands and thousands of miles. Trains get derailed every day, buses are constantly ramming into things, but hey sure, let's fly. Through the air. That's sane."

She jumped in before he could launch into a full-on rant.

"So this is your first time, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, as long as you're not nervous, then."

There was a short pause, one that seemed to have lengthy silence potential. Definitely something to avoid. Keep talking, she thought.

"You know, flying can be pretty fun, with the right company. And as long as you can keep your mind off the fact that you're in this weird sort of steel tube hurtling around the sky."

He looked at her pointedly and shifted in his chair. His leg began vibrating up and down and he started peeling the label off his beer. Dammit, she thought, I totally just freaked him out. Fix it.

"Me and Rory? On our flight to Europe, we would take turns sneaking those airsick bags with us into the lavatory and then we'd fill them with the little shampoos and soaps and maxi pads they have hidden away in the walls. I mean, why they have them in the first place is totally beyond me, you can't even tilt forward in those things without hitting your head on something, so I don't know who would try to wash their hair in there."

Luke continued peeling.

"And the maxi pads they have in there are hilarious, they're seriously from 1986- they come in these huge containers and have a picture of an Olivia Newton-John look-alike on the front, feathered hair and leg warmers and everything. You'd think if they were changing the parts on the plane every couple years or so, it would occur to someone to change up the maxi pad storage area they have back there. Maybe go crazy, get some tampons. Or hell, stock some condoms while you're at it, because the only thing those bathrooms are good for anyway definitely… involve, um, condoms."

She wanted to stop rambling, but seemed to be having trouble. Eventually, when she saw that he wasn't even looking in her direction anymore, she gave up and went back to her own thoughts. At least there was a chance, now that he wasn't any paying attention, that he hadn't heard the thing about the condoms. It was inappropriate enough for her to be babbling on like this, but that was terrible.

She was used to lightening the mood. It was what a decade and a half of growing up Gilmore had done to her.

She was definitely out of her element in this situation, but she couldn't face just sitting there and mulling over why they were there in the first place. Instead, she wanted to focus on Luke, to try to help him through this instead of having to deal with her own grief.

Lorelai had never really had to deal with a big family death before, not unless you count Gran. But Gran's death had been different than this, these were a totally different set of emotions. Gran hadn't helped raise Rory, hadn't guided Lorelai through her most vulnerable years. She hadn't given her a chance to start over in a new town, with a new home, a brand new life with her brand new kid. Mia taught her... well, virtually everything, from how to properly change a diaper to making her own bed, how to open a savings account.

She had been the one to first give Lorelai directions to Luke's for coffee. When she'd returned to the inn that day, she begged Mia for the details on the guy behind the counter. "He's a good kid," she'd said. "But he needs friends. He's had a tough time of it, like you."

Luke heard her sniffle and finally turned back toward her. Tears were running down her cheeks and she looked up at him, pleading for attention with her eyes. His expression softened and he sat down beside her, gently guiding her to the crook of his arm.

"Hey, Lorelai. Stop. It's gonna be fine."

She nodded tearfully and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Luke felt the ball of guilt in his chest grow even bigger, he didn't mean to get so absorbed in his own thoughts. 'I've always wanted her to need me,' he thought to himself, 'and now here she is, looking at me with those eyes and I'm not even being there for her.'

Unbeknownst to Lorelai, he had spent a better part of the day in a heated argument with himself. There was a part of him- and he couldn't believe this- there was a part of him that was actually sort of excited.

Well, not exactly excited, of course, but let's say he wasn't not un-excited about it. And it was making him feel like a total ass.

He could barely acknowledge it, the fact that these thoughts were coming out of his head.

At first, he was just relieved that he could be there for her in a time like this, because he knew how much worse this would be for her if he couldn't be there.

Then later in the morning, as he had been standing in front of his closet figuring out what to bring, he suddenly realized that he was packing only the clothes that she had bought for him years ago. He was subconsciously packing for her, picking out the things she'd said over the years looked good on him, trying to impress her.

He dumped the clothes out of his duffel bag and settled on just his black suit and tie, and an assorted array of plaid. This was no time to be thinking about his relationship, for chrissakes. I mean really, how insensitive could he be?

Word had gotten out around town about Mia, and people were coming in and out all day to give him their condolences. They knew how close she and Luke had been growing up, and he eventually lost count of the number of times he'd had to say words like "heart attack" and "funeral." He couldn't wait for Lorelai and Sookie to come get him, he couldn't stand being in the diner for very much longer.

Finally, just as he'd stopped looking up eagerly every time the door opened, Lorelai breezed in and sat at the counter.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, let me grab my stuff and give Lane the key."

"Can I get a cup of coffee for the road?" She looked tired, but nice.

He reached over and began making a new pot, feeling her eyes on the back of his head.

This was something Luke was particularly attuned to, he could always feel it when someone was staring at him. Even though he considered himself sort of a loner, a generally ordinary guy, it seemed like he'd been in a lot of situations throughout his life in which every eye in the room was on him. From his mom's funeral as a kid to his years doing track in high school, he got used to people staring. They did it after Rachel left. The day Lorelai announced her engagement. He could always feel it, and it always bothered him.

Just as he turned to pour her coffee, she stated nonchalantly, "oh, and we're sharing a hotel room in Santa Barbara. I hope that's okay."

Luke tried not to visibly jump out of his skin. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, um, I guess the school there is having its graduation or something and practically every room in town is booked with parents. My mom's agent was finally able to bribe some family into staying in the dorm room with their kid for the weekend, so the two of us have a place to stay. I was only able to get one room, though."

"Wow... poor kid," was all Luke managed to get out.

"Heh, yeah, that's gonna be one hell of a graduation for him, I'm sure." She took a sip. "And I didn't want to intrude on Mia's family, I'm sure they have a lot of people staying with them already so I figured…"

"No no," he said quickly, "that's fine, I guess. I mean, you don't have cooties or anything. Sharing a room is fine."

Truth be told, the persistent feeling of guilt was sort of fading, the longer he held her in his arms. Two guys at the bar were staring at them and talking, probably wondering if he was comforting her just to be able to nail her later. He tried to ignore them and focus on Lorelai, who was starting to calm down.

He told himself that he was just being a realist. After all, he had dealt with death enough to know that, while grieving was certainly important, the person wasn't coming back and there was no point in dragging out the process. So yeah, it was okay that his mind was more preoccupied with the woman in his arms than the woman who had died. Right?

As soon as he had that thought, though, he felt bad again. He focused on Mia.

Lorelai slipped her bare arm under his and laced their fingers together, sighing deeply.

Luke's poor, conflicted conscience was wearing him out.

This was going to be a long week.


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: I was kidding last time. They're not really mine.

Sorry the update took so long, guys. I'll try and be more on top of it this week. And thanks to all of you who've reviewed so far :)

* * *

"Can I offer you a beverage?"

"Excuse me?"

"Something to drink, sir?"

"Oh, sure. Apple juice, if you have it."

"Of course."

Lorelai poked him in the arm. "You know they have alcohol, right?"

Luke looked at her, then back at the flight attendant. "Make that a beer." As he shifted to the right to get his wallet out of his back pocket, his shoulder pressed against Lorelai's. She made no effort to move. He felt his face flush. Again.

For Luke, the flight had been a series of awkward hand- and knee-brushes. The two of them were in such tight quarters that it was completely inevitable, but he still froze whenever they accidentally bumped one another. Comforting her when she was upset was one thing, but the inch separating their bodies over the course of six hours made him very jumpy.

The worst was when Lorelai had put Luke's tray table down for him, accidentally sweeping her hand across his jeans as she lowered it onto his lap. She'd jerked her hand away from his crotch, mumbled some sort of apology and turned away.

He hadn't really been able to think clearly since then.

"And for you, ma'am?"

"Right. Um, a bloody mary, please." Her face was rather flushed as well, but she was able to hide it by leaning down to get her purse.

As the flight attendant arranged their drinks, Luke strained to think about something else besides Lorelai. Though he had tried this tactic before by turning his thoughts to Mia, he found it made him feel incredibly guilty to juxtapose those two people and the emotions they came with.

He focused on the flight attendant instead, who was inserting the celery into Lorelai's drink. She was quite attractive, he noted, as she flashed him a big smile and handed him his beer.

She handed off Lorelai's as well, but kept her eyes trained on Luke. "Anything else I can get you?"

Luke just stared at her, lost in his thoughts. The flight attendant cocked her eyebrow in his direction.

"I think we're fine. Thanks," Lorelai snapped. She turned to face her seatmate. "Unless you want something else, Luke?"

"Oh, my god, is your name really Luke?" The flight attendant gushed, clasping her hands together like a cheerleader. "I was going to be named Luke if I was a boy. Instead though, I was a girl. I mean, obviously I was a girl, but my parents didn't know until I, like, came out in the hospital. So they named me Sandi instead!"

"Well, that's… nice." Luke said. "Sandi's a nice name."

Lorelai was watching the exchange intently. "Now, is that Sandi with an 'I' or a 'Y'?" she asked surreptitiously.

Sandi had been staring so intently at Luke that she seemed startled by Lorelai's presence. "With an 'I' at the end."

"An 'I,' huh? That's so cute! And do you dot the 'I' with a heart when you write your name?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, and the woman quickly caught on that she was being mocked.

"Um, no, I don't actually."

There was a pause, and Lorelai decided to wait it out. Sandi spoke again.

"Usually I dot it with a star."

Lorelai ducked her head and pursed her lips together, trying not to laugh. Luke, who could tell she was on the verge of another antagonizing question, jumped in. "That'll be enough, Sandi. That's fine. We're fine. Thank you."

"Ok! Great. Well, just press the button if you need anything." She gave Luke a last smile, tossed her hair over her shoulder and continued pushing her cart down the aisle.

"What is wrong with you," Luke hissed.

"What? She was a total airhead. And she was hitting on you, it was gross. I had to do something."

Luke started. "Why did you have to do something? She was harmless."

Lorelai scooted away from him so she could properly look him in the eye. "But she was flirting with you!"

"So?"

"So… what? So… I tried to save you."

"You. Tried to save me. From the perfectly nice, attractive stewardess who was flirting with me."

They just stared at one another while Lorelai grasped for an excuse.

"Well, I am going to have to share a room with you when we get to the hotel, and I didn't want to come home and find a tie hanging from the door or whatever."

"Right because, you know me, I just love sleeping around with random women."

"Don't you?"

"No." He paused. "What, did you think that I did?"

"Well, I don't know. I don't know what you do after you close down the diner. Your apartment could turn into some crazy brothel as soon as all the customers leave, for all I know. Maybe you're having trysts with women on your trips to Hartford for supplies. Or you could be sleeping with your vegetable supplier."

"My vegetable supplier is Jackson."

"Yeah, well, I don't know. Like I said, I don't know what you do after hours."

"Lorelai," he said, giving her an exasperated look, "you've known all the women I've slept with."

She turned to look at him. "I do?"

"Yes."

She wasn't sure whether to press the issue or not, but she was really curious.

"So you've only slept with two women?"

He sighed again. "Yes."

"Just Rachel and Nicole?"

"For god's sake, Lorelai, Yes."

She didn't really have a response to this, so she let her thoughts churn. She'd always just assumed that Luke had some sort of history beyond what she'd seen, that being a popular jock guy in high school would've afforded him a wide range of women, and that he would've taken advantage of that, like most guys. She mulled over her new piece of information for a few moments.

"So when did you meet Rachel?"

"In high school. We dated for two years, then she disappeared a few weeks after graduation. She came back almost three years later. I didn't feel like sleeping with anyone in the meantime"

He was being more forward with his information than usual, she observed, and decided to take advantage of it. "So you… so she was your first?"

"Yeah."

"How old were you?"

"A junior in high school."

"And was that… you know, also her…"

"No."

"Oh."

The conversation was making her relax for the first time since this morning, even if it was sort of uncomfortable, not to mention uncharted territory for them. They'd never really talked this frankly about sex before.

And it was good to talk to him about something completely unrelated to the day's events, to have something to take her mind off of Mia.

They sipped their drinks quietly for a bit, and Luke glanced down at his watch- another couple hours and they would arrive. His stomach wasn't very settled, and he felt almost nauseous, though that had less to do with the flight and more to do with the situation with Lorelai.

He was having a really hard time digesting the idea that they would be sleeping together for so many nights in a row. Questions were bouncing off the corners of his mind, questions that he didn't want to ask because he didn't want to seem concerned about the situation.

But seriously, would they be sharing a bed? What if, if they did share a bed, he accidentally cuddled up with her in his sleep? He'd be mortified if that happened. Would they stay up and talk in the dark? Was she going to come out of the shower in a towel? God, was she anxious about this situation too?

He closed his eyes, and then reflected back on what they had been talking about. He suddenly felt embarrassed. It wasn't like he wanted Lorelai to think he'd been with a lot of women, but he was pretty sure that she'd been with more people than he had. Anyway, if she's allowed to ask, then he should be able to, too.

"And you?"

"And me what?"

"How many people have you, you know, been with?"

She pitched into a high-pitched southern accent. "Why, Mr. Danes, I don't believe it's appropriate for a gentleman like you to be askin' a well-mannered Southern Belle like me such questions."

"Ok, ok." He should've known this was a bad idea. "And you started it."

He downed the last of his beer and looked out the window.

"Four."

"Four?"

"I've slept with four people."

"That's it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, you know, I just thought it had been more." He braced himself, realizing he'd just accidentally insinuated that he thought she was a whore. Luckily, she just laughed and slapped him on the arm. "Luke! I can't believe you thought that!"

He smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. Then another thought struck him.

"And now?"

"Now what?"

"Are you seeing anyone now?"

"Me? No. Single."

His stomach turned over, and he couldn't restrain the smile that was spreading across his face. He faced the window to keep her from noticing.

Lorelai, oblivious to his goofy grin, glanced down at his empty beer bottle and said, "You want another?"

He toned it down to a smirk and turned back to face her. "If I do, are you going to assume it's because I want to talk to Sandi again?"

She looked at him straight with her clear, blue eyes. "No. I think you have better taste than that."

He smiled at her, rather sheepishly, trying to think of a response, when she interrupted his thoughts: "Well, except Nicole of course. Man."

"Hey!" He barked.

"Kidding!"

He scowled for a minute. Then he said, "At least Nicole dotted the 'I' in her name with a dot."

Lorelai was glad he wasn't upset at her comment, which she knew had been inordinately mean. But she looked forward to the day when he was over her to the point where she could give him the list of why Nicole had been such a terrible choice for him.

Instead, she fished in her bag until she came up with a deck of cards. "Poker?"

"Sure," he replied.

She smiled to herself. "Winner gets the bed?"

"Excuse me?"

"The bed. In the room," she said matter-of-factly.

Luke swallowed and tried to keep his eye from widening. "So you're saying... there's only one bed?"

Lorelai gave him a devilish grin. "'Fraid so, pardner. So you in or out?" She shuffled the cards on her tray table, maintaining eye contact with him.

Luke stared her down for a moment.

"I'm in. Deal the cards."


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: I'm having a hell of a time treating the the three issues at hand with equal sensitivity. Themes of death, love and lust are really difficult to balance out, and I'm not sure about what I've gotten myself into. I'd love some feedback with regard to this matter in particular.

Again, thanks to all who are staying with me on this story and being so encouraging.

* * *

Luke recognized the feeling in the pit of his stomach from that childhood vacation in Atlantic City, when he and Liz had tried to set the world record for Most Roller Coaster Rides in six hours. She'd gotten sick after the fourth or fifth ride, so he just kept going by himself until he could barely stand, while she sat nearby and watched.

He wasn't sure why he kept going on that stupid roller coaster, and the guys who were working the coaster sneered and made comments every time they helped him in or out of the car- but he just couldn't stop himself from getting back in line once the ride was over. Finally, Liz ran to get their parents and his dad had to come and haul him away.

That's exactly what he felt like as he and Lorelai deplaned onto the tarmac at the Santa Barbara Airport, just after midnight. The landing hadn't been smooth at all, and when coupled with an empty stomach and an evening of soul-wrenching longing, he knew that alka-seltzer was definitely in order.

"Hey look, palm trees! I thought that was just a myth," said Lorelai as they neared the building. The small, mission-style airport was covered in pink bougainvillea vines and surrounded by tall, gentle palms. "Luke, can you believe this? We're in California. Man, I always wanted to come here as a kid."

"God, why?"

"Oh, you know, have lunch at the Brown Derby with Lucy and Desi, then drive the T-Bird down to the beach with Frankie and Annette."

"Yeah, too bad they're all dead. Now it's just the land of migrant farm workers and scientology."

She didn't respond, save a gesture to the sign that indicated baggage claim  
.

He breathed deeply as they walked, relishing the un-recycled air. He could smell the ocean, something else that reminded him of his childhood.

They gathered their bags at the carousel and exited the small building, waiting out front for the hotel's shuttle to arrive. Luke dropped the luggage and sat down, leaning his arms up across the back of the bench. After a minute, Lorelai joined him, fitting herself into the welcoming crook of his arm.

They both gazed out, noticing the outline of the mountains on one side, and the sound of the ocean wafting from the other. The room-temperature air wasn't heady with moisture as it was back east, and the exotic foliage waved quietly in the breeze. "I can see why Mia loved it here," she said mournfully.

Luke dropped his arm onto her shoulders and gave her a small squeeze. "Yeah. Me too."

* * *

By the time they checked in and made it up to the room, it was almost 2 a.m. Luke's body was completely exhausted, but he was mentally wide awake.

He stepped through the doorway ahead of Lorelai, following the bellboy, and quickly deduced that she hadn't been joking. Taking up almost the entire square footage of the room was one king-sized, four-poster bed.

"What, didn't you believe me?" she asked with a smirk, coming up behind him.  
.

He turned his gaze toward her from the bed and regarded her a moment. "Lorelai… did you plan this?" he asked cautiously.

"Plan what, the bed situation?" Luke noted the waver in her voice. "Don't be stupid, of course not, I told you that a couple had reserved the room before us and the whole place is booked to capacity. I asked for two queen beds, but they didn't have any available. This was the last room they had."

She looked at the bellboy, who nodded and agreed. "That's true, we're all booked up, sir, this is the only room left."

"But if you really want, we can get you a cot," she offered. "After all, you did lose the game, and a cot would probably be more comfortable than the floor." She was giving him devious smile.

He glared at her and growled, "The floor will be fine." He tipped the bellman and shooed him out.

Luke made his way over to the bedside table and began undoing the clasp on his watch. He glanced down and saw that the phone's light was flashing red. "Is this for us?"

"Yeah, I guess we have a message," Lorelai responded, and flopped down on the bed face-down, reaching across for the phone. "God, I'm wiped," she said to herself as she pressed the buttons on the keypad.

She listened intently as Luke sat on the bed next to her, unlacing his shoes. "Two messages. First is from Rory." She paused. "She said she's going to try and get an extension on her final paper so that she can fly out here and meet us."

Luke slid off his socks and stuffed them in his shoes. "Good. She should be here."

"Second message is from Donald. He says the service is Saturday, the day after tomorrow, and the reading of the will is Sunday. Gimme a pad."

She scribbled down an address and a phone number, then replaced the handset with a sigh.

"Okay so, Donald said that Mia had been working on her will and estate stuff just before she… you know, passed away, but they're still not sure what she wanted done with a lot of her things. They want both of us there early on Sunday, along with anyone else who knew her really well, to help sort some things out."

"Okay."

She looked really worried. He studied her carefully, knowing that she must be thinking about how hard it was going to be to go through Mia's things.

Luke knew that, for a lot of people, this was undoubtedly the toughest part. Having to disassemble the life of a person you care about is incredibly difficult, submerging yourself in their world and piecing it out to other relatives, other people.

After his mother had died, Liz had spent days sitting in her mom's closet, touching everything and smelling her clothes.

But the toughest part for Luke, after his mother passed away, was the feeling of helplessness that hit him every time he looked at Liz and his dad.

His father, from that day forward, always seemed feeble, almost vulnerable in Luke's eyes. He'd gone from being his son's hero, a strong and capable man, to a completely powerless one. And there was nothing Luke could do about any of that.

His mom being gone was bad enough, but he didn't know how to deal with the hollow shell of a father that she left behind.

His sister, on the other hand, went out of control. Luke couldn't stop that, either. It was like she'd sucked the life out of her dad and injected it into own her veins. She was constantly moving, from boyfriend to boyfriend, drug to drug, and eventually, town to town, and just as he couldn't revive his father, he couldn't put the brakes on Liz.

Losing his mother had been tough. But losing the rest of his family was even harder. And that was something he'd dedicated his life to preventing, whether by being fiercely protective of those he loved, or trying his hardest not to love at all.

He had loved very few people with such ferocity. His father had passed on, Liz had always refused his help, and Rachel had thrown his feelings back in his face so often that they had completely disintegrated.

There were only two people left in his life now, two that he loved so aggressively. Lorelai was one of them - for what she had become, so incredibly single-minded and self-sufficient - and Rory, for what she couldn't help but be. And the thought of any harm coming to either of them made him feel sick to his stomach. He glanced back over to Lorelai.

"Hey, we're in this together," he said, scooting closer. He placed his hand on her lower back. She had her head buried in her arms, still sprawled across the bed.

Her voice came out muffled. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just really tired, I think."

"Lorelai, you're going to be fine," he said sincerely, lightly rubbing her back as he spoke.

She uncovered her face and shifted onto her side, taking hold of his hand as he slid it off her back and onto his own lap.

"Hey Luke?" She peered up into his eyes.

"Hmm?"

"I'm really glad you're here."

Luke felt his cheeks burn and his heart swell. "I'm glad you are too. And I'm glad that you don't have to be alone."

There followed a long drowsy silence, both reflecting on the fact that though they may have lost someone, they still had each other.

"Are you… do you want to go to bed?" Luke finally asked. He rubbed her arm, as casually as possible, with his free hand.

"Yes, I'm exhausted. And we should get up as early as possible tomorrow, what with the time difference and everything."

"Good idea," said Luke.

He mustered up a bit of courage and finally asked, "Should I… send down for a cot?"

A smile crept up Lorelai's mouth as she rolled over onto her back, her head hanging off the edge. "It depends. Do you think you can figure out a way to get me coffee?"

"Lorelai, its 2:30 in the morning."

"And you think this curbs my craving?"

"Okay, so you're saying that if I find a way to get you a cup of coffee, you'll save me from sleeping on a cot the size of a two-by-four?"

"Yes," she replied. Her eyes were shining.

"Fine."

He let her hand slide off of his as he rose from the bed. The reality of sleeping with her was hitting him and he was having some trouble breathing.

'How the hell am I going to come up with a cup of coffee?' Luke thought to himself as he walked away from her. Room service was almost certainly shut down for the night, and there wasn't much nearby, from what he'd seen. He scratched the top of his cap, trying to come up with something.

He vaguely considered getting in a cab and driving around until he found something that was open, but that might seem like a bit of a desperate move. He didn't want to seem too eager, even though he could barely hear for the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.

As he racked his brain, he absent-mindedly wandered into the bathroom and suddenly realized that he was staring at a coffee maker.

"There's a coffee maker in here!" He exclaimed uncharacteristically. "Do all hotel rooms have this?"

Lorelai giggled. "Of course they do."

"Oh, easier than I thought, then." He set about filling the pot with water, smiling to himself.

"That's what all the men say about me," Lorelai hollered from the other room.

* * *

She hauled herself off the bed and began sorting through her luggage. She'd brought a variety of choices for sleepwear, from thick flannel pajamas to a satin slip, and she mulled over her options carefully.

Her heart was beating through her chest, though she wasn't sure if it was because she was about to share her bed with a man, which she felt like she hadn't done in ages, or whether it was because that man was Luke.

She wanted to look nice, she didn't want to seem like she was trying to seduce him or anything. This was a crucial decision.

"Just wear what you would normally wear," Luke piped in her ear.

"AH!" She jumped a foot in the air, nearly knocking over the cup of coffee he was holding out for her. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Here's your coffee. And no need to cover up for me. It's not like I'm going to try anything, so feel free to dress like either Paris Hilton or Nanook of the North." He gestured to her heavy flannel. "Doesn't matter to me," he mumbled, secretly praying that he looked like he was playing it cool.

"And what are you drinking?"

"Alka-Seltzer," he replied, taking a sip.

"So the thought of sleeping with me makes you sick to your stomach, huh?"

"Sick with fear, maybe," he rallied back, a smirk on his face.

"Well, don't worry Danes, I'm not planning on trying anything either." She gave him a look that caused goosebumps on his arms and neck.

She sipped her coffee and, without another word, picked up the small, satin slip and sauntered into the bathroom to change.

* * *

TBC 


	6. Chapter Six

Luke stood in the shower, hand against the wall, head bowed. He'd been in precisely this position almost 24 hours earlier.

The last time he'd tried this, he'd been in his own apartment, in his own bathroom, on the other side of the country.

He thought of how much had happened in such a short period of time.

He thought of the look on Lorelai's face that morning when she'd told him about Mia, the way his heart had broken for her then, and the pain the thought gave him now.

He thought of her calling Rory from the airport to giver her the news, the way she had breathed soothing words into the phone to her daughter- only to break down in his arms as soon as she hung up.

Then he imagined smoothing her crinkled brow with his thumb, making her smile.

He pictured her sitting cross-legged on the couch, eating ice cream and gesticulating wildly, telling a story that it never would've occurred to him was worth telling.

Water sprayed the back of his neck. He grinned.

Then he looked down. There was no way this was going to work.

'Okay, pull yourself together,' he thought, his grin becoming a grimace. 'Think about something else.'

He went through the mental rolodex of attractive women he knew, quickly coming up empty-handed. Maybe, if he'd known more attractive women, he would've had more sex in his life. Or, at the very least, more dates.

No time to dwell on that now. He'd been in here almost ten minutes already; Lorelai must be wondering what the hell he was doing. Not even women take this long in the shower.

The second she'd come out of the bathroom in that lacy little slip, he'd known he was in serious trouble.

In fact, he had very noticeable evidence to prove that he was, most definitely, in serious trouble. He'd grabbed his clothes, held them in a ball in front of his jeans, and headed straight for the shower. He knew this was the only way to make it out of the situation unscathed.

There's no way, especially after a completely dry week, that Luke would be able to handle himself appropriately in that bed. Years of friendship and unrequited love were on the line here, his untamable libido could screw everything up. He had to get it out of his system before he climbed into the same sheets with her.

'This is a life or death situation,' he thought. 'I've gotta suck it up and do it.' He could hear Lorelai in the back of his head, giving him an easily-earned _'dirty!'_

So finally, he came up with the flight attendant. She hadn't been unattractive. She certainly liked him, which was a turn on. If, in another lifetime, she'd given him a sultry look and motioned for him at the back of the plane, he might have followed her.

And with that, he forced himself to do it. Quietly, quickly and efficiently, he managed to keep Lorelai out of his thoughts for a sufficient amount of time. He closed his eyes and imagined the woman, who's face he barely remembered, kneeling before him. Luke was pulling down her skirt, letting her undo his belt, guiding her warm body onto his lap hastily, pulling up her shirt, a handful of breast, grabbing her soft  
thighs, slamming up into her, pulling down on her shoulders. That was enough.

And so, with a groan that was barely audible, he finally came. His body quaked silently with pleasure and relief.

The painful knot that had been in his midsection for days was finally untied. That ache had been there for so long that he had trained himself to ignore it.

Luke's once-tense body was now limp, and he stepped directly under the shower head, letting the stream of water drench his face. As soon as his head cleared, a deep sense of exhaustion seeped in. He felt both mentally and physically drained. He shut off the water and climbed wearily out of the tub.

He toweled off, slipped on his blue boxers, worn sweatpants and a tight t-shirt. Idly scratching his forearm, he stared at himself through the fogged-up mirror and wondered what it was that Lorelai saw when she looked at him.

He'd assumed he was a good-looking guy back in high school, girls told him that often enough, and he'd had the confidence to match. But when he looked in the mirror now, all he saw was a tired, dumpy-looking guy who was in danger of losing his hair.

His father, though, by the age of forty, had developed strong shoulders and tough calluses from years of hard labor. He looked like a man's man, someone who didn't give a shit about anything, someone you wouldn't mess with. He never followed a girl around like a puppy dog, waiting for her to notice him. He took charge. He was too proud to stand around and let the chips fall where they may.

It's precisely why his son had admired him so much.

Luke gazed as himself, taking in his own soft hands, old burn marks on his arm from years of flipping oily burgers; generally helpless around the woman he loved, overly eager to succumb to her every need, trying to make up for his insecurities by being unnecessarily rough with his customers. Letting his over analytical thoughts run his life.

His father never would've taken this. His dad would've marched right in there, grabbed his girl by the wrists and made passionate love to her, would've demanded her attention. Would've made her swoon. Like a real man.

Luke closed the toilet seat's lid and sat down for a moment, deep in thought. He ran his hands over his face.

'But,' he thought, 'all this was dad before mom died. He didn't stay like that.'

Then another thought. 'And after she died, he wasn't useful to anybody.'

'And he wasn't useful to anybody because his heart was broken.'

'So at least,' he concluded, 'I haven't given her a chance to break my heart yet. That's gotta be worth something.'

He felt strangely calmed by this. He figured he was a pathetic loser, but at least he was a pathetic loser with a dream that had yet to be shattered. 'Fabulous,' he thought. 'Now go back out there and embrace the fact that you're a giant pussy.'

He hadn't realized how steamy the bathroom was until he stepped into the clear air of the bedroom. As he'd expected, Lorelai had turned out the lights and gone to sleep; after all, he'd been in the shower for almost 45 minutes.

Luke fumbled around the room, which was pitch black, stubbing his toe twice before finally making it to the corner post of the bed. He waited for his eyes to adjust so that he could figure out which side she was sleeping on. He didn't want to accidentally roll onto her face or something.

But after a few moments, he realized that she wasn't even in bed. The sheets were slightly mussed, but she was gone.

"Lorelai?" He whispered tentatively, straining to make out the shadows in the room.

He heard a sniff behind him and whirled around, realizing she was curled up in a ball on the loveseat. "Please don't turn on the light," she whispered through her tears.

Luke was at her side in a second. "Lorelai, what happened? What's wrong? You were fine when I left."

Her voice was choked, but she spoke steadily. "Rory called me back. She's not coming, she can't make it. But she was so upset, Luke. She was crying and I couldn't be there and that kills me, not to be there for her."

Luke, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how Lorelai was positioned on the couch without fumbling around and accidentally copping a feel.

He finally discerned that she had her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. He put an arm around her, stroking her head lovingly. His other hand had ended up on her far knee, which he realized with some panic, was completely bare. This panic increased dramatically when he realized that, considering what she was wearing when he left, he'd be getting quite the peep show right now if the lights were on.

Luke could feel her staring at him, though he couldn't see her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess. I know you hate crying. I'm going to cut down soon, I promise."

"Oh, yeah? Where have I heard that before?" He answered blithely.

She laughed into his shoulder, then raised her head and wiped her eyes. "God, I'm so glad you're here, Luke. I'm pretty sure I'm losing it."

"Yes, so glad I could be here to see that," he replied. He kept his snide tone, if for no other reason than to hide his quickening heartbeat. She'd taken his hand off of her knee, entwined their fingers and folded the hands in her lap.

He slid his hand out of her hair and began rubbing her neck and bare shoulders. "Feels good," she murmured. Luke traced her spinal cord with his thumb. When she shuddered under his touch, he had to remind himself to breathe.

His hands were tingling from his pumping heart, just at the thought of leaning in to kiss her.

Instead, Luke pulled her into an embrace and kissed her temple gently. "Let's get you into bed, huh?"

"Mmm. Bed. Good."

He pressed his hand into her knee and stood up from the sofa. He waited for her, but she refused to budge. "Ugh Luke… I don't think I can move. Maybe I'll just sleep here." She swiveled slowly and began to lie down. "You take the bed."

He froze. His poor heart threatened to stop beating. Disappointment flooded his stomach. "You sure?"

She yawned deeply. "Mmm hmm. You'll probably be more comfortable sleeping alone anyway, right?"

He hesitated, but answered as was expected of him. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Luke turned and headed for the bed, grasping for the edges to anchor him. He still couldn't see a damn thing in that room.

Just as the mattress groaned under his weight, he heard Lorelai's voice, soft and genuine. "Unless you want to carry me..."

He was back at the loveseat in two strides. She didn't hear him, and yelped when she felt herself lifted off the couch and into Luke's arms. He clutched her body tightly against his chest. "Is this what you mean?"

"Yeah," she responded breathlessly. "Basically the gist."

He could tell she was smiling by the way she spoke, and he had to catch the laughter from coming up in his throat. "You want the, uh, left or the right side of the bed?"

"Right, please."

"You got it."

He set her down gently on top of the covers, which elicited a deep moan of satisfaction. "Good?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

"Perfect."

He circled the bed and climbed back into the other side. "Why do they tuck in the covers like this? I feel like I'm being mummified."

"So pull 'em out," she mumbled.

He hoisted himself onto his knees, pulling out the sheets from under the mattress. "Lift," he said, tugging on the bedclothes she was weighing down. "Just for a second."

She murmured in protest, but arched her body upward, using her upper back and the heels of her feet to flex her body off of the mattress. Luke tucked her in slowly, realizing that he hadn't done this since… well, since Dean, he supposed, but it wasn't something he'd relished doing since Rachel. It was nice to have someone to tuck in.

He lay back down, fending off the sleep that was weighing down his eyelids. He wanted to make sure that Lorelai drifted off before he did, and he waited patiently for her breathing to steady.

Just as he had assumed she'd fallen asleep, he felt her shift on her side of the bed.

He froze there, lying on his back, concerned that she was crying again. He didn't know if he could handle another round, and wasn't sure what to do or how to check.

Just as he was debating whispering her name, he felt a hand slide heavily over his chest and find sanctuary gripping his side. He held his breath as the rest of her body followed; a leg swung over his, breasts pressed against his chest, a face buried in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He shifted a bit in surprise, then curled his arms around her.

He rubbed the small of her back, trying to convince himself that he had her in his arms.

The smell of her shampoo was overpowering. "Is this okay?" She breathed near his ear.

Not locating his voice, Luke simply swallowed and gave her a mild squeeze.

And with that, they gripped each other tightly and drifted off.

TBC :)


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: I'm still beta-less, let me know if you're interested.

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, Lorelai had pulled the comforter over their heads, sealing them in their little cocoon.

She'd dreamed of him all night, her nose pressed against his shirt, breathing him in.

Still half-asleep, barely aware of her surroundings, she nuzzled against him. Her eyelashes were delicately fluttering on his neck.

And she was totally unaware of the effect she was having on a fully-conscious Luke.

He hadn't moved a muscle all night, except to drop a kiss on her forehead when she had started whimpering in her sleep.

He screwed his eyes shut and reflected on the fact that there were at least four men on this earth that had woken up with her in their arms. And all four of them had let her go. He thanked them silently for their stupidity.

It was then that her leg, which had been draped over his knee, migrated slowly upward, pressing into his torso and coming to rest just above his hip. He exhaled forcefully, trying desperately not to emit any of the sounds pulling at his deep vocal chords.

This is the definition of sexual torture, he thought. The woman of your dreams, wearing next to nothing, unconsciously rubbing herself all over you.

Luke knew that he either had to get the hell out of that bed, or make some sort of move.

He decided to test the waters.

His hand, which had been resting at his side, crawled slowly across his stomach, grazing the underside of her knee. He released his breath gently. 'So far, so good,' he thought.

Very, very slowly, he let his fingers slide up the side of her knee, taking in the softness of her velvety skin. He gently laid his palm flat against her thigh about halfway up and rested his hand there. Okay. That wasn't too hard.

She burrowed more deeply into him, sliding her hand up from his chest to the side of his neck. Luke applied a bit of pressure on her thigh and began moving his thumb back and forth over her skin. The goose bumps that appeared under his hand satisfied him.

And though neither had fully opened an eye, they were both totally awake. The second Luke had touched her, shockwaves quaked her body, blowing away any last cloud of sleep.

Luke, however, wasn't aware of her complete state of consciousness. Only once she shifted her weight on top of him completely, so that they were chest to chest, did he assume. Her movements became more deliberate as she repositioned herself, her face still buried in his neck.

This gave him a bit of courage, the thought that she might be aware of his thoughts, consciously reciprocating these movements. His hand slid up the back of her thigh, and he had to resist the urge to buck his hips. She squirmed, then pressed her body into him.

Luke started plotting his next move, then decided to just focus on not passing out.

The only time he could ever remember being this turned on was… well, probably the first time he had sex.

There were actually a number of similarities between the two incidents; he felt that same strong sense of insecurity that followed every move he made, but the sureness of letting primal instincts finally take over was one of the most liberating experiences of his life.

Another similarity between the two events was this: the suspense had been building for him for so long that, now that the opportunity might be presenting itself, he didn't know what the hell to do first.

'Okay, one step at a time,' he thought, and decided to start with opening his eyes.

As he took in the scene before him, he could hardly believe what he was looking at. She was perfect, and she was covering his entire body. Her pearl-colored slip was hitched up at the waist, stopped just short of exposing anything.

And just below that was his hand, moving casually over her skin. Totally nonchalantly too, like he did this every day.

She moaned appreciatively at the feeling of his fingers on her bare skin, squirming against his thighs.

His chin was touching her forehead, she was breathing directly down the neck of his shirt. Her breathing was coming too fast for her to be asleep, he reasoned. She has to be completely awake. And if she's completely awake, she's not stopping me.

He capped her side with his other hand, halfway from hip to breast, while shifting her up so they could be face to face. But instead of lifting her head to face him, like he'd expected, Lorelai moved her mouth up to his ear.

"_Please_," she whispered fervently.

Luke couldn't move. Absolutely couldn't comprehend what he'd just heard.

When he didn't immediately jump into action, Lorelai placed her hands on either side of his head and hoisted herself up, staring down at him. He looked up into her clear, blue eyes and saw the expression he felt himself wearing, one of passion and ardent desire.

And just then, the unbelievable happened.

A shrill ringing went off at his side.

'Alarm clock,' he thought. 'Should've known I was dreaming this.'

The shrieking noise, however was not that of an alarm clock- it was the phone. Lorelai, who'd been completely startled by the sudden interruption of silence, pitched onto her side and rolled off of his body. She covered her face with her forearms. "Jesus," she muttered.

They both looked at one another cautiously from either side of the bed, trying to survey the situation. Lorelai took in his angled jaw, slightly down-turned mouth and days-old stubble. God, he was beautiful.

"You gonna get that?" She nodded to the phone, which was on the nightstand next to him.

'Uh, yeah," he uttered softly, taking a deep breath. He rolled over onto his side and picked up the phone.

Lorelai, meanwhile, half-listened to his conversation while piecing her thoughts together.

The way she fit so well into his body, the way he tensed his muscles when he held her, the way she'd felt his heart pounding under her hand.

She knew he had wanted her, for a fact. She saw it in his eyes, felt it in the way his body moved and flexed when she pressed against him.

It thrilled her to think that, what she'd craved for so long was within her reach.

But she didn't know if he felt the same way she did. And she didn't want to make another decision until she found out. She refused to turn him into a one-night stand.

"Ok, thanks Donald. Bye."

Luke hung up the phone and lay back down. "That was Donald."

"Right. Sorta figured."

"Yeah. Sorry. Um, I told him that we wanted to come to the house and help out today, with whatever we could, but he said that the family would be scattered around today running some last-minute errands for the service tomorrow. The only thing he asked is that we take care of the flower arrangements."

"That's fine."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad he gave us something to do," she said.

"Yeah."

They were lying a foot apart, the awkwardness of the situation palpable.

Just as Lorelai opened her mouth to say something, her cell phone went off.

Luke got up to get ready.

"Honey? I'm gonna have to call you back," Lorelai said into the phone. "But yes, we arrived safely. And give Jackson and Davey my love. Bye bye."

Lorelai made her way to the doorway of the bathroom, hanging onto the wall for support. "Hey," she said to Luke, who was brushing his teeth.

"Who was that on the phone?" he asked through a mouthful of foam, taking in her tousled hair and flushed cheeks.

"Sookie. Just wanted to make sure we arrived."

Luke just nodded, spit and rinsed. He was totally at a loss for instructions in a situation like this.

"Should we talk?" She asked gingerly.

"Yeah, we should probably talk."

"Breakfast?"

"Sure. Need the bathroom?"

"Yeah, I need to shower, but I'll just be a minute."

Half an hour later, Luke was sitting on the bed, watching a baseball game, trying really damn hard not to think about the fact that Lorelai was naked about ten feet away from him. Granted, there was a door and a few walls between them, but he still couldn't help imagining it.

She finally stepped through the door fifteen minutes later, hair pulled back and makeup on. "Let's go," she said curtly, grabbing her purse.

Luke turned off the TV and followed her out the door. "Where we going?"

"I don't know, we'll find something around here," she said. "And you know I've got a nose for coffee, so…" She didn't finish her thought.

They stepped through the revolving doors of the lobby and found themselves on a main street, people everywhere, a sliver of ocean at the end of the block. "Let's walk toward the water, huh?"

They found a small café across the street from the beach, where Luke resisted the urge to make a fuss about the $3 coffee on the menu. After seating themselves, they placed their orders with the waitress and sipped their water nervously, darting glances at one another. "You wanted to talk?" Luke asked quietly.

He didn't know why he asked. He certainly didn't want to talk. He didn't want to know that she was lonely, looking for comfort, just wanting to get laid.

"Yes, I did," Lorelai said, her tone matching his. A pause.

"I mean, we should talk, shouldn't we? Like, there's things we should be… you know, talking about?"

They stared at each other some more. "Yeah, talking's good," he finally answered noncommittally.

"Luke, do you like me?" Shit. She hadn't meant for it to come out of her mouth so abruptly.

And suddenly, he couldn't stop staring his water glass.

He didn't want to give her an answer and shatter the hope he'd carried so privately in his heart.

A few moments went by, as Luke debated what kind of an answer to give her. He probably couldn't get away with just making a joke… maybe he could somehow get her to answer first. Or, maybe he should suck it up and be a man.

"Yes."

He'd said it so quietly to the water glass that she wasn't sure he he'd said it.

Plus, just in case he had said it, she wanted to hear it again.

"What?"

He finally met her insistent gaze. "I said, yes."

"Yes… like… you like me?"

"Yes. Yes like I like you."

"Like you _like me_ like me?"

"How did I know that question was coming," he muttered. "Lorelai… I have feelings." She just stared.

"For you," he added.

Then more deliberately: "I have feelings for you. There, I've said it."

"You have feelings," she repeated. "Feelings for me."

"Jeez, why do I feel like I'm talking to a three-year-old?" He turned toward the window and gazed out at the beach.

"I'm sorry," she responded dejectedly. "I just wanted to make sure I understood."

"And do you understand?" He was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"I understand."

He finally turned back toward her, awaiting some sort of response. Lorelai, however, just stared at him with faraway eyes and a small smile. He felt like he was being mocked.

"If I could turn them off, I would," he finally said.

"What! Why?" She cried.

"Why? Because, Lorelai, the way I feel about you is… it's completely ridiculous. I know that. And it's painful. And even if I was your type, which I'm not, it would be crazy for us to try and date."

"Why would it be crazy?"

"I don't know. It would just be stupid for us to try, what with our friendship, as close as we are, as small as that damn town is. Everyone would be talking about us going out, then everyone would be talking about us breaking up, and then I wouldn't ever see you again. Or Rory, for that matter. And I don't want that." He took a breath.

"I'd rather try and… keep doing what I've been doing."

"What, just… suppressing your feelings for me?"

"Yup," he responded. He was getting nauseous and didn't want to be there. His eyes darted around impatiently.

The waitress came with their food, the breakfast special for Lorelai and a fruit bowl for Luke. "More coffee?" she asked Lorelai.

"No thanks," she said, smiling sweetly at the waitress. She turned her attention back to Luke as she walked away. He raised his eyebrows.

"Well," said Lorelai slowly, "I think we should go out." She popped a piece of muffin into her mouth.

"_What?_" he exclaimed, cocking his head forward anrgrily. She didn't answer.

"Are you... are you messing with me?"

"No!"

"Lorelai, _why_ are you saying that?" he demanded.

"Because, Luke," she smiled through her muffin. "I like you, too."

"No, you don't." He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

"What are you talking about? How do you know who I like? Only I know who I like, and I'm telling you, I like you." She giggled, sipping down the last of her coffee.

He looked at her in disbelief. "You. Like me."

"Yes."

"You're saying, you like me. You have a crush on me. Me, Luke Danes."

"Yes you, Luke Danes. Who's the 3-year-old now?"

He looked down, arms still crossed, and broke into a wide smile. "You like me," he said, nodding. "You like me. That's… good. That's really good."

Luke finally turned his attention to his food, forking an orange slice into his mouth.

They ate the rest of their meal in complete silence, only stealing glances at one another from across the table and grinning madly.


	8. Chapter Eight

A/N: Sorry that took forever. Hopefully worth the wait?

* * *

"We'd better find a flower shop, huh?" Lorelai was sitting across the table from Luke, looking up shyly from empty plate.

She motioned to the waitress and requested a phone book, where a florist was quickly located just a few blocks from their hotel.

The check came to the table, and Luke immediately palmed it and slid it next to his plate. "Don't worry about it."

"Luke, no, at least let me pay for half."

"Listen," he said, looking at her steadily. "I figure, after our conversation five minutes ago, this has become our first official date." He tried to restrain his grin. "So there's no way you're paying."

She smiled sweetly at the gesture, ignoring the Gloria Steinem voice in her head.

Lorelai's heart hadn't quite stopped pounding since hearing his declaration. She felt like all the blood in her body had rushed to her face, her palms were sweaty and her cheeks wouldn't stop pulling her mouth into a smile.

She wasn't quite sure what to do with herself, whether to leap across the table and kiss him, or sprint around the block, or stand up on her chair and announce it to the other patrons in the room.

She just… she felt giddy, and giddy that he seemed giddy, too. She decided to just sit tight and preserve the feeling.

Lorelai briefly reflected on the plans she'd carefully set out for the night before, while Luke had been in the shower. She was glad they hadn't panned out; if Rory hadn't called, she knew that they would have unnecessarily over-complicated their relationship.

It was just twelve hours earlier that she had, after a half hour of sitting and reflecting on her feelings for Luke, finally concluded that a decision was absolutely necessary.

She was risking her sanity and overall well-being by _not _making some sort of move, she thought. At least, if she knew for a fact that he didn't have feelings toward her, she could start working on getting over it.

The second Luke walked out of the bathroom (especially if he was in a towel, she thought) she was going to saunter over, slide the straps of her slip off her shoulders, say something irresistibly sexy and then wrap him into a kiss. She didn't know what she'd say, but sexy quips were her strong suit, and Lorelai felt confident that she could come up with something on the spot.

And once she had him in bed, she figured, he would be completely powerless against her feminine wiles- regardless of how he felt about her emotionally. Universal truth held that dangling a naked woman in front of a sex-starved man was a sure-fire way to get anything you want.

She hadn't wanted a one night stand with him. But, she had thought, if I could have one night with him alone in a bed, I might be able to cajole him into seeing me as more than a friend.

Lorelai had never considered herself particularly experienced with men. She was sure that Luke, with half as many partners, had had ten times more sex than her. Having a kid waiting for you at home didn't allow for many extra-curricular activities, she reflected.

One thing she was certain of, however, was that if she could really take in and relish his body the way she'd wanted to for so long, that he would definitely assume she was experienced. If she could only take control, spend time exploring every curve and crevice, pass the hours just kissing him and teasing him… she knew it would be mind-blowing, regardless of her comparatively meager sexual history.

But now, as she stole a glance at him from across the table, it was different. She didn't need a plan anymore. She knew this was for real. And she knew that she would get to do all of that eventually.

And she would know that his feelings for her were in his heart, not in his pants. She wouldn't have use sex as a way to convince him of anything.

She was grateful to Rory for dismantling her plans.

Because otherwise, if Rory hadn't called, she and Luke would probably still be tangled naked in bed together.

And that was bad because…

well, she couldn't quite remember why, but things had worked themselves out emotionally, and the rest would follow in time.

She realized she'd been staring at Luke's hands for a few minutes, deep in thought. He was giving her a quizzical look. God, she was turned on. This wouldn't do at all.

"I was just thinking about the flowers," she said quickly.

"Uh huh."

"Uh huh what?" she demanded.

"Your face is bright red. What were you really thinking about?"

She gasped. "Luke! Did you think I was thinking dirty thoughts about you?"

Luke looked taken aback. "No, I just… I thought you might be thinking about Mia, and… your face is red, I thought you were upset."

Lorelai smiled at him. "God, you're so sweet. No, I'm good." Her smile brightened as she added, "Really good. Let's go get those flowers taken care of."

As they walked down the street, Lorelai couldn't help but notice Luke's eyes on the water. The Pacific Ocean was spread out before them, palm trees and long piers framing the miles of yellow beach as far as the eye could see. He couldn't help but stare.

"How about we come back after we do the arrangements," Lorelai suggested.

His face softened under the glare of the sun and he glanced down, taking her swinging hand into his.

"I'd like that," he said.

* * *

They wound their way through throngs of tourists and locals down on State Street, hands still clasped. When  
they finally made it to the open stretch of sand, they both stopped and gazed out.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Luke turned to face Lorelai, who felt his eyes and returned his gaze.

"It's beautiful," she agreed.

He'd trained himself to not stare at her lips when she spoke, or when their faces were close like this. Now, however, he felt free to do it. He was, in fact, in the midst of doing it, when Lorelai suddenly caught him by the shirt and pulled the two of them into one another's arms.

"There, that's better," she said, grinning. She loved the feeling of Luke's veiny forearms curling around her midsection, and tightened her grip on his neck.

"So this is where we kiss, huh?" He said it playfully, but his pounding heart was giving him away.

Lorelai's smoldering eyes were burning into his, and he felt frozen to his spot until she finally closed them and leaned in.

Their lips met in the middle, touching hesitantly at first. His tongue brushed hers softly, as if they were shaking hands, meeting for the first time. The thought made Lorelai suppress a laugh. It was the most gentle kiss she'd ever felt.

His hands squeezed her sides as he pulled back, pressing his forehead into hers. She studied his face from this angle, as it took up her entire field of vision. He had a number of tiny grooves running out from the corners of his eyes, and they creased as he smiled.

Her hands traveled to his face, her thumbs taking up residence on his cheeks, playing with the curls that splayed out from the back of his neck.

Luke's eyes took a moment longer to drift open. He took in her shining eyes and the light freckles sprinkled on her button nose, her long lashes fluttering just centimeters from his. His breath only came back when Lorelai nuzzled his cheek and pulled him in for a hug.

She felt him shiver and clutched him more tightly.

It wasn't an uncommon scene in Santa Barbara, a popular destination for those newly wed, newly engaged, or just newly involved. They looked like any other couple enjoying a day on the beach, and passers-by were oblivious to the all-consuming feelings of passion passing between them.

Not a word was spoken as they walked down to the water, finally settling under the shade of a pier. They leaned back on their elbows, stretched out side by side, waiting for the other to say something.

"Aren't you hot?" Lorelai finally asked, glancing down at his flannel, blue cap and boots. "It's like, 85 degrees."

He gave her a look, then unbuttoned and shrugged off his flannel, revealing an olive green t-shirt.

"Good color," she said, eyeing his well-formed body.

"Thanks."

He sat up, removed his shoes and socks, burying his feet in the sand. Lorelai did the same.

"I could do this all day," she murmured, tipping her face back and taking a deep breath, listening to the waves.

Luke took this opportunity to study her carefully; his eyes traced her delicate neck and collarbone down to the curve of her breasts, taking in her flat stomach and small hips. He couldn't believe that she felt the same way, that could get this lucky.

"Then, let's," he said simply. She turned her head to look at him and smiled. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

* * *

As the sun began to sink, Lorelai suggested they take a cab up to Mia's old house, just to make sure that everything was in order for the service, to see if they could help with anything.

They walked back to the hotel to clean up and change, their sandy clothes having taken up the smell of the beach.

Luke was prepared to change into something casual, but Lorelai insisted on his being a bit formal for the family. He ended up in a tie-less, coat-less version of his funeral clothes, Lorelai in a black pantsuit.

"We look like we're from the FBI," Luke remarked.

"We look appropriate," she corrected. "And this way, we won't have to come back to the hotel before we go out tonight."

"Wait, we're going out tonight?"

Lorelai smirked. "It's Friday night, Luke. My parents are 3,000 miles away, I haven't been out on a Friday night since like, the 1800's. We don't have to go salsa dancing or skinny dipping, we can just go to dinner or back down to the beach. It's the principle of the thing." She turned and walked out the door.

Once he got past the words 'skinny dipping,' he swallowed, nodded, and followed after her.

They pulled up to the house around 6:00, getting the address from Donald on the way. Though Lorelai hadn't seen him since the Independence Inn had burned down, he looked as if he'd aged quite a few years. They all hugged, shook hands and were introduced to the dozen close family members milling about their preparations.

"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt your dinner," Lorelai said, noting dishes on the table.

"Oh, no, you didn't," Donald assured her. "This food is just for the kids, I don't think any of us adults have had much of an appetite these past few days." He gave her a sad smile, which she returned.

"I was just looking through some old boxes of pictures," he continued. "Sorting some things out. It's been hard, but as you can see, I've got plenty of help. Everyone's really pitched in around here." He gestured to everyone around him.

"Well, Luke and I just wanted to make sure you have everything you need," she said, pursing her lips. "Make sure you're okay."

"That's so sweet of you. But we really do have everything under control. The service is tomorrow, 2:00 at the Holy Cross Church on Milpas. We'll see you there?"

"Of course," she responded, looking at Luke. He just stood awkwardly, hands in his pockets. "We'll be there."

A little girl with big brown eyes waddled up, clutching Donald's leg. He chuckled, rumpling her hair. "Oh, this is my daughter, Rosie. Say hi, Rosie."

"Hi," she said shyly, looking up at Luke and Lorelai.

Lorelai crouched down to Rosie's height, and held out her hand. "Hi Rosie, my name's Lorelai. I'm friends with your dad."

"Are you here for the funeral?" she asked point-blank, eyes still wide.

Lorelai cocked her head, her mouth in a straight line. "Yeah, sweetie, we are. Me and my friend Luke came from all the way from Connecticut to say goodbye to your grandma." Rosie didn't respond. She added, "We all loved her very much."

The little girl stared back at her and nodded. She looked scared, dressed in a simple white pinafore with stains down the front, still grasping her dad's leg. Looking intently at Lorelai, she asked innocently, "What's gonna happen?"

"Come on, kiddo," Donald said, swinging her up into his arms. "Let's go talk, huh?"

Luke glanced at Lorelai, who had cast her eyes down, frowning. He took over, putting one arm around her and extending the other to Donald. "We'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, shaking the man's hand. "Call us if you need anything." Lorelai simply waved unsteadily, and they turned to leave.

"Goodbye!" Rosie called after them.

As they stood outside waiting for their cab, Luke tipped Lorelai's chin up and looked down into her eyes, which were a little wet. "You okay?"

She exhaled and put an arm around him. "Yeah, I'm fine, that kid just got to me. Something about her reminded me of Rory at that age, and… I don't know. I'm okay, though."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"You hungry?"

"I'm hungry." She paused and considered. "And I need a drink."

"I think that can be arranged," he said, kissing her forehead.

Their cab pulled up and they slid inside.

* * *

TBC 


	9. Chapter Nine

A/N: Thanks, **catterwall**.

* * *

They sat at the bar of the restaurant nursing their drinks. Lorelai seemed far away, and Luke didn't want to disturb her reverie. After a few minutes, however, the uncharacteristic silence had made him too uncomfortable. 

"So, what was it?"

Lorelai tore her eyes away from his knee. "What was what?"

Luke looked at her intently. "What was it about that kid that made you so upset?"

"Oh," she breathed. "I don't know. I mean, with Rory being gone so much at school I feel like, sometimes, it's… I just wish she were that age again, I guess. Back when we she little we were together all the time. She was with me every minute."

Luke knew that it had been hard for her to let Rory go, to see other people have a profound effect on a person that, previously, only Lorelai had had a direct influence on.

She continued, "When I was a maid, back at the inn, she used to toddle after me from room to room carrying the basket with the pillow mints. That was her job, the pillow mints."

Luke smiled at the thought as she squeezed the lime into her Corona.

"After we finished sometimes, if Mia hadn't taken a break yet, we would all sit down in the kitchen and have dinner together. And Rory's never had to deal with a big death, which I'm grateful for, but it just… it feels like she should be here. And that little girl really reminded me of that, I guess. That my daughter should be with me."

He gave her a sad sort of smile and rubbed her arm gently as she continued.

"I feel like a lot of people should be here. Like Sookie, she knew Mia way before I did, and when Mia introduced us it was like I finally had a friend in the world again. It's not right that we won't be attending tomorrow's service together, you know?"

She mulled over her thoughts a moment, reconsidered. "But Sookie's been so crazy lately with Jackson and the baby and everything… I know it was impossible for her to come. I just wish she was here. Or around more in general, I guess."

Lorelai had lowered her voice, and Luke had to strain to hear her. She dropped her eyes to their intertwined fingers. "It's just been so hard lately, I feel like everyone's kind of floating away from me."

She immediately realized how that must have sounded to Luke.

"Except you, of course."

That sounded lame, and they both knew it. She tried to dig herself out.

"All this… I mean, even though I feel this way," she floundered, "I do know that if Rory and Sookie and everyone else were here, then this-" she gestured between them- "probably… wouldn't be happening."

"That's probably true," he responded, not knowing what else to say.

"And I know it's a strange time for it to happen, in like the midst of a death and everything… and I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I think that maybe Mia, wherever she is, might have had something to do with it."

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "You do. You think Mia's death is the catalyst for our getting together."

"I'm just saying! If she's floating around up there, or whatever, I wouldn't be surprised if this was one of the first things on her agenda. To kick-start our relationship."

Luke sighed. "Lorelai, Mia did not implant these feelings in me. Unless she secretly died five years ago and nobody told me until yesterday."

"Five years?" She repeated, her voice cracking.

"I was going to tell you, actually, until you showed up at the diner with the news."

"You were?"

"Yup."

She thought about this for a moment, smiling to herself. "Why didn't you?"

"Well, because… because of what happened. You were at my door before I had a chance to do anything. And so it's ridiculous to think Mia had a hand in this, because I'm assuming you would've wanted to date me even if there weren't a funeral involved."

"No, I mean, why didn't you do anything before?"

"Before what?"

"Before, as in, every day that I've seen you in the last five years."

"Oh. Um…" He was blushing profusely. "You know. You had relationships, I had relationships, just… life got in the way, I guess."

"Yeah but, if you wanted it badly enough, you would've done something." Lorelai said with a scoff.

She immediately regretted the words.

Christopher was the only man who had ever known anything about her before wanting a relationship with her. With every other guy she could keep some sort of mystery going, flaunt whichever side of her personality she deemed fit, and slowly reveal the rest when she was ready.

The problem was that it seemed like she was never ready.

Luke knew everything. She couldn't just erase the bad parts he'd been subjected to over the years and start over as this mysterious, sexy creature that could flit off at a moment's notice.

He knew her better than Christopher had ever known her, and he still wanted her. And that was something she'd never really experienced before. Even her parents; they only wanted the good parts of her, asked her to get rid of that pesky sense of independence and that annoying self-awareness that the other girls at Cotillion were devoid of.

Someone who wanted the good and the bad. Someone who had seen her act out, had watched her make mistakes, someone who stuck around to help pick up the pieces afterward. It kind of blew her mind.

Luke hadn't spoken immediately, busy aimlessly rubbing the lip of his beer with his thumb.

"It wasn't that I didn't want you badly enough," he began quietly. "It was that I was willing to go through the pain of not having you, because it was easier than losing you altogether."

She pressed her hand into his knee and stared at him until he looked up. "You wouldn't have lost me," she said adamantly.

And for the first time that day, he didn't have to think about it.

He leaned in and kissed her hard, both of them on the edge of their barstools, fingers gripping fabric.

A quiet moan escaped from deep in her throat. His body tensed at the sound and he took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her skin. One hand clutched her thigh and the other hooked onto her calf, the lines on his forehead crinkling, gently working her bottom lip. This is exactly what he wanted.

After a moment, Lorelai broke the kiss and stood up, pushing down on his broad shoulders. She shifted between his parted legs, ran her nails along his thighs and pressed her lips to his neck, then his ear.

"I need you," she uttered softly.

Luke pulled back from her with a startled look on his face. Though they were nose to nose, he was recognizing something particular in her heavy-lidded eyes. He craned his head back and studied her expression intently.

Lorelai's face had suddenly become familiar to him in a whole new way; he would know that look anywhere.

It made him sick to his stomach.

She really needed him. She desperately needed him to be there for her. Her world was crashing down around her and she was coming to him for help.

And it was Rachel's fault that he knew that look so goddamn well. Every time she came back, her face was poised in the same way, her eyes clouded with that same expression. Begging him to save her, to take her away from whatever she was going through.

It was sort of frantic; a little forlorn, he thought, very grave, and easily mistaken for intense desire.

Rachel only returned to Luke when something was really wrong. He wouldn't know about it at first, immediately wanting to believe that it was their relationship that lured her back.

Inevitably, after a few days, or a few beers, it would come out; she'd been cut from a magazine, her editors didn't give her the assignment, her brother had died in a car accident. Something. Always something to scare her back into his arms.

But he loved her more than anything. And he didn't want to know why she was there. He just wanted her to stay.

Rachel had ripped him open so many times, she'd left these rough scars around his heart. And now here he was, recognizing that look in Lorelai's eyes as she smiled at him. His kiss, his affection, his dependable safety net was making her smile. And it completely devastated him.

He stared at the floor.

He didn't want Lorelai to need him the way Rachel had needed him. He wasn't going to be the crutch that she was missing. Now that Rory was off at school, now that she'd broken up with her boyfriend and her parents were separated and Sookie was having kids and Mia was gone. He knew, probably better than she did, that he was the only thing left in her life.

He wasn't going to be there to guide her gently through this rough patch just to see her walk away from him at the end of it. Luke had promised himself he wouldn't do it again, ever- whether they were Rachel's eyes or anyone else's, he wouldn't confuse that look for desire again.

"Sir?" Luke felt a light tap on his shoulder as Lorelai returned to her stool, brushing the hair off of her flushed face. He turned to face the waitress. "Your table is ready."


	10. Chapter Ten

They slid into a booth at the back of the restaurant where Lorelai's hand immediately found a place on Luke's knee. He didn't look up.

She scooted closer and took his arm, pressing her nose into his shoulder. She was staring at him intently.

"Hi?" Her voice was slightly muffled through the fabric of his shirt. Luke glanced at her, pretty sure it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. He restrained himself from his natural reaction and kept his eyes on the table. He wanted to run away; he needed time to think.

But her flowery perfume was taking over his mind, and he found himself at a loss. He closed his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Her chin migrated up to his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he stumbled. "I'm just gonna go outside for a second."

"Outside? Why?"

"I, uh, I'm just going to make a call. To the diner, check on things."

"Here, use my cell phone," she offered, reaching for her purse.

"No, it's fine. I think there's a pay phone outside. I'll be right back." He'd barely finished his sentence before getting up. He didn't give her a second look.

Luke opened the door of the restaurant with such force that it slammed against the wall. She followed him with her eyes, confused, rooted to her seat.

The only thing he could be certain of was that he'd been incredibly stupid. The Spanish tiles of the sidewalk blurred as he stormed up the street. He'd let himself be so easily convinced that this was actually happening.

Luke had been so cautious of where he stowed his feelings over the past ten years. He didn't know how he'd arrived at this point, about to break up with the woman he'd been dreaming of for years.

It occurred to him briefly that maybe he'd put his feelings into Lorelai because he never thought she'd want him. And if she never wanted him then he'd never have to see his heart broken. He could harbor and revel in secret feelings and desires that couldn't be dashed because they were never returned. She wouldn't jerk him around; she wouldn't leave him. She'd always be there on the other side of the counter.

And she needed to stay there, he thought, on the other side. Because there was too much at stake.

He couldn't take that look anymore. Especially not from Lorelai.

He had to stop confusing being wanted with being needed.

He also needed to quit psychoanalyzing himself. Clear his head.

His dad had taught him that, when making a decision, you should ask yourself a series of questions. The types of questions that people ask themselves are what distinguish one person from another, good people from bad people, successful people from failures.

And if you could learn to ask yourself the right questions then you'd have a good thinking head on your shoulders.

Right. So where to start.

Luke thought the best thing to do would be to pinpoint exactly what it was he wanted.

'I want Lorelai,' his brain answered promptly.

Okay, that wasn't getting him anywhere. He probed his thoughts further and asked himself how he would have wanted them to first get together.

If he'd had his way, he thought, she would have come to him when her life was in order. She would have walked into the diner one day, told him that she wanted to be with him more than anything, and that she was willing to make room in her stable life for him.

He wanted her to be the strong, confident woman that she was around everyone else. Like the way she was around Christopher, the way he'd seen her act around Nicole. He refused to take in the dribbling mess of a girl that he comforted last night only to have her get herself together and go be confident around someone else.

But god, what a beautiful mess she made.

His thoughts turned again to last night when kissed her forehead, made her laugh. He knew that was his domain: the caring friend, the verbal sparring partner, the hunter-gatherer. And he didn't want to stop playing his role.

But the problem was that he knew he wasn't going to get to play the role he really wanted, more than anything.

He wasn't going to fall into step with her; he would continue to be one step behind, picking up after her, making sure she didn't fall. Talking her off the ledge, guiding her in the right direction.

He wanted to be the cause of the joy in her life, not the person who helped cheer her up when it was gone.

And it had to be that way, or he didn't want it. He couldn't have his heart broken again. Not by her.

One thing he could be thankful for was that she had inadvertently stopped him from spilling his guts the previous morning with the news of Mia's death. At least, with things they way they were, he knew what he had to do. If they'd gotten together in Stars Hollow, he may have been too blinded by her affection to see things clearly until it was too late.

He couldn't take back what had already happened. She already needed him, and now she wanted more from him, and he was going to have to be stronger than that. He buried his head in his hands.

"Luke?"

Lorelai walked up to the bench on which Luke was perched.

"I've been walking up and down this street looking for you. The waitress said the nearest pay phone was in the other direction… what's wrong? What happened?"

Her tone was demanding, but her countenance betrayed concern and fear.

"You've been gone a half hour," she added. "Did something happen to the diner? Did I do something? Luke, please talk to me."

He rubbed his face and turned away. He couldn't remember ever finding the strength to say no to her, and the realization that he was about to break up with her before their relationship had even started was almost too much.

He felt her hand cautiously find a place on his shoulder and he knew it was his turn to say something.

"I want out. I can't do this."

And that was the best he could do to describe his feelings.

Luke heard a sharp intake of breath and turned to her. Her eyes were searching the ground, her mouth slightly open.

His own heart was pounding mercilessly, and every bone in his body was straining to take hold of her, reassure her, say soothing things.

"You want out of… us?"

"Yes," he said quietly.

"I… can we at least discuss this? I don't get a say?"

"Look, Lorelai, I'm sorry that… this is just the way it has to be. It's not going to work between us."

She gaped at him in disbelief. "You won't even come back inside and talk about this? That's it?"

"I'm not very hungry," he said. "I'm just gonna head back and go to bed. We've got a lot to deal with tomorrow."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Lorelai sat on the bench, completely lost. She felt nauseous.

She'd replayed the day in her head over and over again until it was all a tangle of surreal, interchangeable events. The last 24 hours had seen her exhaust every volatile emotion a human being can experience, and her feelings for Luke were the only ones she knew she wanted to take back with her to Connecticut.

Maybe she had cried one too many times, maybe she'd kissed him wrong. Maybe she'd forgotten deodorant this morning and it had turned him off. Maybe he was just humoring her when he told her he liked her. Maybe he'd just come to his senses.

The sun had set long ago, and the Saturday night crowd was starting early. College kids filled the sidewalk around her, forming lines outside of the bars behind her. Music blasted out from open-air clubs and the smell of alcohol wafted out onto the street.

The air was warm, but the breeze from the ocean gave her goose bumps.

A homeless man asked her for change. A 22-year-old asked her name and offered her a cigarette. A cab driver asked her if she needed a ride.

She shook her head at all of them, completely numb, arms crossed protectively against her body.

There was nowhere to go. She couldn't go back to the room, didn't want to go back to the restaurant. The thought of a cup of coffee stung a bit, considering its intimate associations, but she walked into a small café and ordered one anyway. She took one sip and threw it in the trash.

She walked down to the water and took off her heels, sinking her feet in the cold sand. The tide was out and the beach twice as expansive as it had been before. She decided to wait until he was asleep before creeping back into the room. Lorelai sat down, time lingering.

And she wanted to cry now, get it all out so that she could be around him later without falling apart. It was a calculated decision to cry, but it wasn't difficult to summon.

She buried her face in her knees and sobbed quietly until the water began lapping at her feet. She cried for Mia, for Rory, for her parents. She cried for Luke. But mainly, she cried for herself.

There were people here and there. A couple taking a late-night stroll, patches of drunk kids skinny-dipping, daring each other to jump in the freezing water. She looked up every time she heard someone, hoping to see him coming toward her.

Her teeth wouldn't stop chattering. A low mist appeared, hanging on the edge of the waves, and she thought it might be time to go back.

She dusted the sand from her clothes, wiped her face and retied her hair, making her way up the beach.


	11. Chapter Eleven

A/N: Thanks to **catterwall** for the beta and **sosmitten** for pimping me on the TWoP boards. And to **danagabrielle** for a review that made my day. :)

* * *

She stood in front of the hotel room door and found that she was unable to will herself inside. She settled against the wall opposite, slinking down with a plop and staring up at the peep hole. There was no light coming from underneath the door.

Lorelai desperately tried to convince herself that he was asleep. She would be able to steal out of bed in the early morning hours, no problem. It wouldn't be difficult to get to Donald's, lose herself in the preparations and then book the next flight back. They probably wouldn't even have to see each other at all.

She felt angry but had nowhere to direct it. She didn't know why she'd been rejected, but she wanted to forget it ever happened. There was a painful, empty sort of feeling in her chest, as if an organ had been suddenly removed without her permission.

Finally steeling herself, she swiped the card through the slot and slid in, cringing when the door snapped closed. She stood perfectly still as she waited for her eyes to adjust.

The first thing in the room she identified was the bed, perfectly made, pillow mints intact.

Her eyes shifted to the couch. It was fixed up neatly with the spare blankets from the closet and a decorative pillow. He wasn't in it.

She began to feel apprehensive, suddenly worried that he'd switched rooms or worse... flown back home. She whispered into the dark, "Luke?"

"Right here," he said, his voice scratchy.

Lorelai followed the sound to a chair in the corner of the room, wedged between the bed and the window. He had turned toward her when she walked in, though it was evident that he'd been staring out for some time.

"What're you doing?" She asked hesitantly.

Luke got up and settled onto the couch, lying back. "Couldn't sleep," he mumbled.

"Oh."

"Goodnight," he said quickly.

"Um… yeah, sure. 'Night."

She dropped her purse on the bed and tried to avoid looking in the direction of his shadow. Cautiously making her way to the bathroom, she considerately closed the door behind her before snapping on the light.

Once the fluorescent bulbs flickered on, she was startled by her appearance. Her makeup was smeared, her skin sagged, and her hair was frizzed by the ocean air. She was briefly amused that she seemed to look the way she felt.

She showered and changed with great difficulty. Her breathing had become shallow, inciting frequent and heavy sighs that racked her body.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from the inanimate objects in the room. The lights made everything seem a dull yellow color that reminded her of movies from the '70's.

The questions in her mind had stopped. She was stuck somewhere between figuring out why it had happened and deciding what to do next, but couldn't bring herself to delve in on either side.

Her thoughts just sort of slowed, then ceased entirely.

It was like the last moment before falling asleep, when your body and mind stay absolutely still, anticipating being overtaken by another state of consciousness. Only much scarier, as she wasn't sure quite what she was being overtaken by.

Without really registering her movements, she made her way back to the bed and climbed in, almost drowning in her oversized sweatshirt and pants.

Once she was in, she vaguely noted that it seemed so much bigger than it had last night. She got the same eerie feeling that had come over her on the beach; like the size of her environment had expanded without Luke there.

She was mentally and emotionally drained, but somehow her eyes refused to close. Lorelai stared out of the open window trying to block out the sound of Luke's breathing, trying to focus on her own.

It was then that she noticed it. Climbing cautiously out of bed, she walked to the chair that Luke had been occupying when she came in.

The window looked out onto the exact stretch of beach that she had been sitting on.

God. He'd been sitting there watching her. For all the hours she'd sat there sobbing, he'd been watching her from up here. Doing absolutely nothing about it.

And suddenly her anger found a channel.

The thoughts in her head, which had been so helplessly paralyzed from the moment he'd broken it off, rapidly found movement again. And her foremost thought was just what an asshole he was.

No matter what she could have done to make him want to end… whatever it was that they had started, it was not in his character to sit up here like some cold-hearted stepmother, staring passively while her heart was breaking.

She stood at the window and looked down. She imagined seeing Rory, or Sookie, or Kirk for god's sake sitting on that beach in a sobbing heap and knew she'd be down there in a flash. And she knew for certain that Luke was a better person than she was. And yet he still hadn't come.

She could never, not in her wildest dreams, imagine doing something so terrible to Luke that he would have continued to sit there, hour after hour, just watching her suffer.

"Lorelai?" His voice came quietly from the couch.

Her body was completely stiff as she chewed her lip, resisting the urge to hit him. Or hit the wall. Or hit something. Her mother, maybe. Something needed to go down. It briefly occurred to her to jump out the window.

"What," she barked. Her brash tone took him by surprise, and he couldn't find his voice for several moments.

"Nothing."

The silence that punctuated their words was piercing.

"You were _watching_ me?" Her voice was shrill, broken.

He sighed. "Yes."

"And you didn't come talk to me? You just sat up here and watched me. You did nothing. You seriously sat up here and did nothing."

Her accusing tone made him wince, but he didn't know what to say. Lorelai waited for a reaction, though she was unsurprised when none came.

"Luke," she said quietly, "you're the only person I have right now. You're the only person I can come to for... anything. And now… just like that... you're completely gone? And I can't even know why?"

"That _is _why," he scoffed. "Look, I don't want to talk about this right now."

"What's why? The fact that I don't have anyone else?"

He didn't answer.

"Luke! What's why!" Her tone was quickly going from demanding to desperate.

The air conditioner hummed gently, underscoring his silence.

"You don't want to talk about it? Fine," she snapped. She was absolutely livid. "Then go to hell."

She angrily tossed back the covers and climbed in, slamming pillows against the headboard in an attempt to rearrange them.

Lorelai swallowed back tears, not willing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry.

It was difficult to understand and even more difficult to deal with. This wasn't just some guy that she'd been seeing, some relationship sort of fizzling out. This was the man that she'd waited so patiently for, completely shutting her out.

She'd always managed to have faith that, when it was right, it would happen. She tried not to push it, she had to try consciously not to flirt him into dating her, knowing that if it was meant to be, it would happen when it was right, on its own terms.

And there it had been, right in front of her. He'd told her that he'd been waiting too. He'd smiled shyly and taken her hand awkwardly and it was everything she wanted from him.

And now, over the course of a single day, the hope and trust that she'd carried in her heart, that had grown to be such a part of her over the years, was suddenly extinguished. Without explanation. And it was killing her.

She sat up in bed, staring blankly at the shadows cast on the floor. She didn't know if he was still awake, but began speaking in a low voice.

"I don't know... I don't know what you're thinking. And I don't know why you won't explain this to me, because I have a right to know why you're doing this, why you're ending this."

She breathed deeply, ignoring his conspicuous silence.

"I'm sure if you could tell me what I did wrong, then I could... apologize for whatever it was and we could sort it out. Because I really think that we should be together. Because... because today was one of the best days of my life. Which, considering the circumstances, is _incredible_, Luke. And I want to be with you, I've wanted to be with you for so long now."

Hearing her own voice was soothing, and she felt better for articulating her thoughts.

"I care about you. I really do. And if I did anything to make you think that this wouldn't work between us, then I'm sorry. My cards are on the table, Luke. The only thing I want right now is to start a relationship with you."

Lorelai wasn't sure if she was expecting a response, but his side of the room was still. She couldn't even hear him breathing anymore.

She layed back with one last calming breath. She buried her head deep under the comforter and finally gave up, completely turning off her mind.


	12. Chapter Twelve

A/N: To **catterwall**, the best beta I could ever have asked for.

* * *

Lorelai woke up to voices on the balcony beneath their window.

"Those waves were off the richter, bro."

"Seriously, man, they were breaking like crazy. Did you see that last one I caught? That shit was insane."

Right. California. She didn't think people actually talked like that.

There was a pain in her neck when she tried to move, and the sun's glare forced her to retreat back under the covers. She slowly came to, listening anxiously for any sound of Luke. All she could hear were the surfers. And it smelled like weed.

"Jesus," she muttered.

Luke was gone. The sheets were folded on the couch, and the clock said it was 10:30. She was starving. She forgot to call Sookie back. She had to go to a funeral.

"Coffee," she mumbled.

Lorelai glanced around the room half-heartedly searching for a note. There wasn't one.

She put a pot on, letting it percolate while she dressed herself. Her funeral clothes reminded her of Gran.

She wondered if, next time she wore them, they would remind her of Mia.

As she stepped out onto the street she tried not to scan for Luke. The few people in her peripheral vision were darkly tanned blonde girls in Ugg boots and white frilly skirts. She put on her sunglasses. It felt like she had a hangover.

'Emotional hangover,' she thought. 'Good name for a band. Mental note to tell Lane.'

She caught sight of herself in a window and realized how much she stuck out; black clothes and black hair reflected in the pastel colors of State Street.

She came to a small café, ordered coffee and a donut and sat down outside. She took in the skater boys in their Von Dutch and the girls with their Louis Vuitton purses. It reminded her of New Haven, only way more ditzy. And with fewer minorities. She touched her forehead, not wanting last night to fully sink in.

She picked up the phone to call Rory, thought better of it, and turned it off completely.

Lorelai asked the busboy directions to the church where Mia's service was being held. A cab was unnecessary; it was within walking distance. She decided to head over. If she strolled slowly enough she might only be a few minutes early.

Her mind was torn between wanting to remember what it was like to be with Luke and wanting to forget it ever happened. She felt like she had been totally robbed of the giddy, excited feelings that come with discovering you're wanted by the boy you like, robbed of that feeling of overwhelming desire from every light touch, robbed of the only security she'd ever invested in. Where there should've been the thrill of a new relationship, there was only bitterness and unrest.

But it wouldn't be too difficult to ignore him today. She knew she would be focused on the service; not because she was terribly single-minded but because of the weight of whom she'd lost.

Mia's scarf was wrapped tightly in her purse. It had been the first present Lorelai had ever given her after she'd been taught to knit. The weave was too open and done with a clearly unskilled hand, but Mia was delighted to have it regardless.

That winter she'd given it back to Lorelai to wrap Rory in at night. It was the only thing that kept her warm in their heatless shed. They'd never remembered to return it to her.

Lorelai fondled a frayed edge as she walked, wishing she'd brought it sooner. She'd always meant to visit but somehow never got the chance. As she rounded the corner, someone hanging out of a car window whistled and leered at her as he drove by, but the gesture barely pierced her thoughts. She had focused her eyes on the church, where people were milling about in small groups outside, all in black.

She failed to notice Luke as she walked by him to the crosswalk; he'd been sitting on the front steps of the elementary school across the street from the church, waiting for other people to file in. He watched her breeze past him, words formed in his mouth but saying nothing.

His gaze followed her down the street, and it was at times like this that he had to remind himself that he actually knew her, that he was lucky enough to know someone that he had wanted to be close to for so long. Before she ever came into the diner some ten or so years ago, he'd seen her around town, wondered about her, fantasized about her. He'd thought she was too beautiful for Stars Hollow, that she had this ethereality about her that didn't belong in his modest town.

She trotted in front of the impatient cars in an attempt to outwit the flashing stoplight, still completely oblivious to his eyes. Her elegant shoulders were pulled back, her gait uncommonly graceful, her gaze straight ahead. Black curls bouncing softly, he watched as she greeted Mia's children with a warm hug and her most sincere condolences.

He was in awe of her just like he'd been in awe of Rachel so many years ago. The only difference was that, once he'd really gotten to know Rachel, been familiar with her flaws and her imperfections, the admiration had ended. He eventually believed himself good enough for her. And ultimately, as it were, too good for her. That was when he'd stopped waiting for her to come back.

Lost in his thoughts, he realized that the doors had opened and everyone had filed in. He jogged across the street, just as she had moments earlier, and entered into the cool foyer of the church. His chest felt tight as he shook Donald's hand and brusquely signed the guest book, not eager to go inside but wanting it over with.

He'd said his goodbyes to Mia that morning before anyone had arrived. He'd sat outside for a half hour before the hearse pulled up to the church. The family had granted him a private moment and he'd sat in the back room with her, his head hanging low, leaning forward, hands clasped earnestly, staring at the tips of his shoes.

As he'd never been one for prayer, he'd spoken to her softly under his breath, thanked her for everything she'd done for him as a kid. She'd given him so much, so much that he hadn't felt had been adequately repaid.

Luke talked for over an hour, oblivious to the family members who peeked in every so often to check on him.

He thanked her for making dinners for his family while his mom was in the hospital, asked her forgiveness for leaving them untouched. Made sure to tell her how much he'd looked forward to her visits, apologized for not having spent more time with her when she came in to see him.

He'd promised Mia, after she left Connecticut for California, that he would keep an eye on Lorelai and Rory for her, support them when he could, be there for them when they needed it. He begged pardon for every time he'd failed them in that respect, any time he didn't do everything in his power to help. Times like now, he'd added bitterly. Times when he couldn't give them relief from pain, couldn't care for them, couldn't sustain them in however small a way.

And he hadn't cried, not a single tear. He knew that if he had, alive or not, Mia would've scolded him for it, told him to be a man, men only cry over dogs and sports so buck up. The memory of her made him smile, and the small lump in his throat dissolved.

He'd walked to the steps across the street and waited, silently asking Mia's help in getting them through the day.

"Welcome, friends and family," began the pastor. "We've gathered here on this beautiful day to celebrate the life of Mia Galloway, beloved wife, mother…" Luke slid into the end of an empty pew at the back of the church just a few rows behind Lorelai. He could see her gingerly worrying a green scarf against her black jacket. She was dry-eyed.

John, Donald's younger brother, was introduced by the pastor. He spoke of Mia's dedication to her family, her extensive charity work, her pilgrimages around the world. What a kind woman she was, taking in unfortunate girls and raising them as her own. Cooking meals for the families in Stars Hollow who'd lost a loved one and couldn't care for themselves. Lorelai glanced back over her shoulder, accidentally catching Luke's eye and lowering her gaze. He stared intently, willing her to turn back around, disappointed when eyes stayed focused forward.

Last night had been the worst night of his life. He'd sat there at the window, completely immobilized, fighting every urge to go get her, to go help her. He could see her shoulders shaking through the fog, worried when the tide had begun to rise, wondering if she would just let it overtake her. All Luke wanted was to bring her back to their room, dry her off, wrap her in warm blankets and hold her until everything was okay again.

But the minute he thought back to that look in her eyes, the fear of her terminable constancy rooted him to his chair.

He couldn't go through it again, he repeatedly told himself. She wouldn't stay, no matter how sincere her words seemed.

Lorelai cocked her head back slightly, passing him a fleeting look, one he couldn't read. He stared at the coffin not twenty feet ahead of him, playing and replaying his promise to Mia in his mind. He was supposed to take care of Lorelai. He was meant to be there for her, intended to watch over her. And he was hopelessly failing everyone, absolutely everyone who'd been promised his word.

He got up from his seat and walked out of the room, the speaker glancing briefly in his direction without pause. He didn't know where to go, but he couldn't be in there, staring from Lorelai to the coffin until he was dizzy.

He thought to step outside, but the glaring sunlight was harsh and caused him to immediately retreat to the foyer, swaying unsteadily on his feet. He felt physically ill, his vision hazy from the sudden burst of light in his eyes.

Luke strode down the corridor, finally coming to a men's room, pushing open the door, the acrid smell of chlorine hitting his face. He turned to the mirror above the sink, but cringed at the disoriented look he was wearing and faced the wall. The crook of his arm cushioned his forehead against the cold, mismatched tile.

He rarely got headaches, but this one was all too familiar, another relic of his childhood- it was the pain caused by the pressure of unreleased tears. It pulsed against his temples insistently and pressed against the back of his throat.

His neck and his shoulders were vibrating gently from the tension. From the tremendous amount of exertion involved in damming a barrage of emotion. Coupled with a completely sleepless night, his body was begging his mind for relief, to just let go completely, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, wasn't even sure he knew how. He wiped angrily at the tears brimming in his red-rimmed eyes, refusing to allow himself to break down. He coughed feebly, but the raw lump in his throat only hardened.

He'd lost both of them, both Lorelai and Mia, the two tethers in his life. At once. They were gone; he was alone.

Luke turned and stared at his face in the mirror; he was visibly shaking now. He couldn't look himself in the eyes, choosing to focus instead on keeping his knees locked upright.

He hadn't remembered what it was like to feel alone because he realized he hadn't actually been alone in a long time. Not since she'd come into his life, in whatever capacity, so many years ago. He had considered himself a loner, but knew now that he hadn't been, not really. He talked to her more than anyone else who walked through the door. She knew him better than anyone else, and he hadn't failed to realize that it went both ways.

But now Lorelai felt just as inaccessible to him as Mia did; he couldn't talk to her, he couldn't communicate with her. He didn't even know how to begin conveying his concerns to her, as it would result in dredging up everything from his previous relationships that he couldn't really articulate to himself, let alone to someone else. Let alone her, someone he'd always had trouble being really succinct with when it came down to anything truly personal.

He felt like he didn't know anything. He didn't know… he didn't know how the diner was doing. He didn't know how he was going to spend another night in the same room with her, or even with his own thoughts. He didn't know how to stop the sudden panicked feeling in his chest, or why it felt like someone had reached down his throat and tied his organs in a big knot.

All he could pinpoint for sure was that he was utterly alone, in a city he was completely unfamiliar with, suddenly alienated from his best friend and his only source of maternal comfort lying in a coffin on the other side of that wall.

A small tear streaked down his face, quick like a shooting star, leaving only a hopeless little trail of moisture on his cheek. He remained expressionless, staring in the mirror, ignoring the droplets that were quickly pooling and spilling over, looking down as he shifted his weight against the wall.

His mom had told him as a kid that, if you could take four deep, deep breaths, then you would stop crying. He struggled halfway through one before being interrupted by a small hiccup. His breath shuddered as he exhaled.

Luke heard the faint clicking of heels against the wooden floorboards of the corridor. They echoed off the walls of the restroom as they approached, finally pausing in front of the door.

A hesitant knock came and the swinging door pushed open. Lorelai's voice ricocheted gently off the tiled walls. "Luke?"

He didn't answer directly, but his fidgeting gave it away. She glanced around the door and saw him standing against the wall. She slid in and closed the heavy door as quietly as possible, blinking rapidly as she surveyed the situation.

Her eyebrows were knitted in concern and she was wearing a similar expression to the one that had been haunting Luke, the one right after he'd told her that he wanted out of the relationship. Confused, definitely distraught, a bit spooked. Uncertain, but loyal. Almost desperately loyal.

He continued studying her face, picking out the emotions one by one. Apprehension, that was written all over. Tender, though, and sympathetic. Framed with obstinacy. Earnest. Optimistic, he thought. But then again, her face was always optimistic.

She stood in front of him without saying a word, unsure if it was appropriate to speak, if he was mad that she'd interrupted what was obviously a very private scene.

"Luke… I..." She trailed off doubtfully, questions in her eyes. "Do you want to be alone?"

Luke stared at her beautiful face through his tears, the invisible hand around his throat tightening with every passing second. Her question was more loaded than she knew.

Self-consciously, he extended a hesitant arm to her as he sank further into the wall, wordlessly asking for her help.

Without pause, she was immediately in front of him, embracing him. His face tunneled into her neck, now moist with tears and he tightened his grip around her small waist.

She grasped the back of his jacket with one hand, the other stroking his shoulders, murmuring soothing things as he sniffled quietly.

Neither knew how long they stood like this, holding each other in the dimly-lit bathroom of the church. Eventually, they heard footsteps and voices in the hallway and realized the service must be over. Luke wiped his face and stepped back from Lorelai, regarding her with soft eyes. He placed a hand on her hip.

"I need you," he said plainly.

They were the words she had used, the words she'd scrutinized hundreds of times, agonized over, the last words she'd said to him before he decided he wanted out.

Without thinking, she crushed herself against him, throwing her arms about his neck.

Luke squeezed her and lifted her off the ground, pressing his forehead into her shoulder.

"Please. I need you," he repeated, struggling for a breath.

Lorelai was floored. Her mind was a mass of questions without answers and raw emotion, completely unequivocal to anything she'd ever contended with.

She settled back on the ground and looked up at him, into his earnest, pleading eyes. She gnawed her cheek, her forehead deeply creased, then pressed her clasped hands into her stomach. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I… I don't know if I can."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

A/N: You guys, if **catterwall **didn't exist, this story would've gone down the tubes so long ago.

* * *

She berated herself for being so naive and thinking he would actually open up to her. After the airport, the funeral, his sidelong glances and far-away stares, she was now certain she didn't know him as well as she thought. He was always so private with her, yet she could predict his movements; she knew which direction he was coming from and where he was going, until now.

Luke wasn't looking at her. His eyes were on the ground and he was blinking hard, breathing fiercely through his nose, one hand clenched in a fist. He looked… almost angry, though more defeated than anything else. His chest was heaving, he loosened his tie with a flick of the wrist.

They were so absorbed in the emotions filling the small bathroom that they didn't notice the footsteps in the hallway until the door swung open. One of Mia's nephews walked in, started when he saw the back of a woman's head. He was immediately aware of the tension in the room, but didn't know if he should leave.

Luke looked up, sensed the awkwardness and walked past Lorelai out of the bathroom. She turned to face the man, mumbled an apology and followed Luke out into the hall. He was striding away from her, back toward the main room. She whispered his name harshly and grabbed his arm. He stopped in his tracks. "What?"

She exhaled audibly. "Come with me."

She pulled his arm back in the other direction, giving him no choice but to follow her.

After peeking into a few rooms, she found a small windowless storage area filled with crates and dusty bookshelves. It was musty and claustrophobic, but private. She reached up and pulled the overhead cord, clicking on the naked bulb.

"Sit," she commanded.

He complied, overturning a crate, not meeting her eyes.

She pulled up a crate of her own so they were sitting knee to knee. "Talk."

Luke shifted uncomfortably. He was horribly embarrassed for both of them, that their relationship had come to this. He'd broken down in a bathroom while she took pity on him and made him believe that she might be there for him. And he'd fallen into it. And she'd retreated. He'd been right about her.

"I don't… I don't know if this is going to work," he said.

"I know. That's what I said two minutes ago in the bathroom, and you looked like I'd just killed your dog."

He couldn't think of a response and continued staring at his hands.

"Luke, if it seemed like you didn't want to be with me, then I'd understand. But that face was not the face of someone who was okay with the end of a relationship."

"I'm not," he answered curtly.

"So what, are you afraid we won't be friends anymore? That I won't come into the diner?"

"I have coffee," he sneered. "You'll be coming to the diner."

"So what is it then? It'll be hard, but we can go back to the way we were if that's what you want."

Luke didn't know how to respond. He couldn't unblock the dam of thoughts that had been building since last night.

Lorelai sighed at his reticence. She was determined to drag some answers out of him. She figured the facts would be a good place to start.

"So let's get this straight. Yesterday, you wanted to be with me, correct?"

He just looked at her.

"And last night, you decided you didn't want to be with me. Am I still right?"

No answer.

"Luke! Am I right or not?"

He nodded miserably.

"And now, suddenly, you need me?"

"It's not sudden," he said defensively. "And I do need you. I want to be with you."

"No, Luke. You need me because Mia's gone and because you're sad and I'm right here. Last night _you_ were the one who didn't need anybody while I spent the worst night of my life sitting on some beach wanting to slit my own throat." Her anger was rising. "Tell me why you backed out," she demanded.

He couldn't bring himself to say it. He continued to look down, shoulders heaving.

"Luke!" she insisted.

"Because," he shouted, his voice matching hers. "Because I can't be with someone who won't be there for me."

"And what in the _world_ makes you think that I won't be there for you?"

"Because you'll leave, Lorelai, that's what. Just like you left Max, just like you left Rory's dad when he wanted to do the right thing and get married. You'll leave and only come back when you need me, like you needed me the first night we were here."

His mind flashed images of her tiny slip climbing seductively into bed with him; it only served to fuel his anger, to think that she had tried to seduce him physically into being with her, just to have someone in her life.

What pissed him off even more is that it had worked. And now he was struggling to find a path back to the way things were.

"I know you," he continued, "you'll get bored and you'll move on and I'll just be sitting there waiting for you to come back for the rest of my life. I can't go through that again."

Her face was burning with fury. "You know absolutely nothing about my relationships with other people and you have no right to judge the way I've handled things in my life. Max and Christopher have nothing to do with you, or with us. I don't get bored of people. I may prioritize, Luke. But I've had the same best friend for twenty years, I've sustained relationships with people I didn't like for Rory's sake, I've put up with questions from every boyfriend I've ever had about my relationship with you. And people grow up and move on, but I _don't _leave if it's right, I don't just ditch out on relationships that are important to me."

She pushed the crate away and began pacing the room. He didn't respond.

"Do you understand me, Luke?" She turned and leaned forward, glaring into his eyes. "I am _not_ Rachel. I don't bail when it counts."

She spit out those last words and placed her hands on her hips, facing the wall.

Luke looked at her plaintively. "I know you're not Rachel," he said, his voice soft. "It's just that… she's the only person I've ever been in a relationship with."

"You were married," Lorelai said, her tone still sharp.

He shook his head. "She was the only person I've ever been a _real_ relationship with. And I've seen you with these guys, and I've seen the looks on their faces after it's over. And they look just like me after Rachel left."

The room was overheating, her palms were sweaty and her body exhausted. She felt like she couldn't breathe, but wasn't leaving until they'd reached some sort of resolution.

"Did you need her?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did you need her. Did you need Rachel in your life."

Luke thought for a moment. "No. She's gone and I'm still breathing, so I guess not. But I wanted her."

"You didn't need her, but when you were hurt, when your dad died, when your sister ran away, when she got pregnant. Did you go to her for help? For comfort?"

He sighed heavily. "Of course I did."

She squinted her eyes. "Do I really need to spell this out for you?"

"Go ahead," he challenged her.

"Fine, Luke." She took a deep breath, ignoring the fact that her hands had been shaky all day. "A relationship is not one person, like, exerting power over another. It's a give and take situation. In your case, someone took from you and didn't give anything back. It was the other way around with me, and with Max, I felt like I was doing all the taking and couldn't do any of the giving. But that had nothing to do with who we are as people. I'm not like that, just like you're not the type of person who normally gets walked all over. Look at everyone else in that town, most of them are scared as hell of you, d'you really think they see you as a doormat?"

"No, but what does that have to do with us?"

"God, just shut up and listen. Okay, yes. I see why you're scared. And yes, I _do_ need you, and I am alone. But try to understand that there's so much more to it than that."

He palmed the back of his neck, trying to take in everything he was hearing.

"I've never needed anyone," she continued. "And I need you because I love you, not the other way around. You're judging me the way you judged Rachel, Luke. But most people rely on those they love, because they love them. They don't love them because they're just there. And I'm sorry if anyone has ever made you feel that way. But that's not what a good relationship is. And it's not like I've ever been in a… a good or a particularly healthy relationship, I only know how I feel about my kid. I learned that from her."

Luke's breath had stopped about halfway through her rant. He was looking at her with a stunned look on his face, one eyebrow raised. "You love me?"

She sighed, exasperated. "Of course I love you, Luke. What, did you think I didn't? You've been like a second parent to Rory, you've always looked out for us, you've always taken care of us and made sure we had everything we needed. Just like Mia said you would."

"How did you know about that?" he asked incredulously.

Lorelai shrugged. "She told me that you'd look out for us after she left. And she'd write me every month to make sure you were doing your job, and that we were doing ours."

"She did?" He smiled to himself. Of course she did. "Ours? What was your job?"

"Mia, the day she moved, made me and Rory promise that we'd give you a hard time when you asked for it. And she also made me promise to let someone else take care of us when I couldn't handle everything myself."

Lorelai was wearing a sweet, nostalgic expression that Luke had never seen before. "She was worried I was too independent, come to think of it. Mia was the only person who I'd ever really asked for help, you know? For anything. And after she left I think she wanted to make sure that I still had someone like that in my life. And… well, you came highly recommended."

He snickered, running his hands through his hair. "Maybe you weren't so far off when you said that she was the reason we got together. She set that up pretty well."

Lorelai gave him a half smile. "Knew it," she said softly. She stood by one of the bookshelves, idly peeling at an old label on the wood. "So what now?"

He wrung his hands for a few minutes, processing all the words hanging in the air. The blockage in his chest seemed to be loosening.

"You know, this morning when I was with Mia, I felt like I'd lost you both. At the same time. And I can't see Mia anymore, can't talk to her or get advice from her or… whatever. Nothing. She's gone, it's too late. But you, you're still here, we can still figure it out and maybe… go back to the way things were. Still take care of each other, the way she wanted." He looked up at her, the light from the bare bulb causing him to squint.

Lorelai took her seat on the crate next to him. "I know how you feel," she said, voice strained. "I was just staring at this scarf during the service. I made it for Mia after Rory was born and never gave it back." She pulled the corner out from her purse, sliding it over her fingers. "I really wanted her to have it… it's too late now."

Luke stared down at the scarf, mouth turned down.

"Look," Lorelai started, "I don't know if you heard me last night."

"I did," he cut in.

She looked at him hard. "I don't know if you heard me last night," she repeated, "but… actually, you know what? Here."

Reaching down for her purse, she unraveled the scarf and handed it to him to hold while she rummaged through its contents. He found himself running it through his fingers just as she had.

She pulled out her wallet and handed it to him. "Look inside."

He put down the scarf and opened it. "You have eight dollars," he said, confused.

"Gad, no. Look." She removed the picture insert from one of the pockets and handed it to him. "Look at these."

Luke began flipping through the plastic-coated pictures one by one. She must have had it forever, it was sticky with age and coming apart at the seams.

The first two pictures were of her and Rory together; one of Lorelai holding Rory as a toddler in the doorway of their small shed, the other of the two of them at the annual carnival, force-feeding one another cotton candy like a newly-married couple.

The third photo was of she and Sookie after a dough fight in the kitchen of the inn; the fourth was Rory's first photo taken at the hospital. The same familiar blue eyes crushed into a pudgy baby face, he noted with fondness.

The fifth and final photo was taken from Rory's graduation day. She in her shiny blue gown and golden ropes, smiling modestly. Behind her were Luke and Lorelai, an arm around each other, Lorelai's draped over Rory's shoulder. All connected, the three of them. They looked like a family.

"I can't believe you have this," he said incredulously. "I don't even remember taking this."

She smiled at the memory. "Look behind it."

As Luke pulled out the picture, another dropped at his feet. It was smaller, a cut-out of a larger picture that had been taken from far away. "Where did you get this?" he demanded, eyes wide.

"Miss Patty gave it to me. It's from Thanksgiving a few years ago."

"A few years ago," he said, "This is from before when the diner was painted. And you haven't had that haircut since..."

The photo held the two of them at a table, his arm around the back of her seat. His grin was sloped as he laughed into her hair, she was cracking up through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. They looked so happy.

"How long have you had this in here?"

"Since she gave it to me. It was before Rory started at Chilton."

He couldn't tear his eyes from the picture.

"Why?"

He couldn't stop himself from asking, regardless of how clear the answer was for both of them.

She sighed, placing a hand on his knee, edging her crate closer. She looked at him solemnly.

"Luke, I've never had a picture of any man in my wallet. You're in there twice." He just stared. "Do you really need me to spell it out for you?"

"Go ahead," he challenged.

The hand on his knee pressed down hard when she leaned her upper body toward him. Her face stopped millimeters from his. Her eyes closed gently.

The feeling of her hot breath on his lips made him shiver.

"Do you get it yet?" she asked, low and raspy.

"Um… still not fully comprehending. Maybe you should keep going." His own voice was gravelly, almost guttural.

Her fingers tightened around his knee as she drew in a breath, pressing her lips to his. The hand on his knee unwittingly slid forward, forcing a deep grunt from his throat. She pulled back. "Luke?"

His eyes were glazed over, and at some point he had managed to grab her wrist. "I think I get it now."

"About damn time."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

A/N: As always, rescued by **catterwall**.

* * *

"You still there?"

Lorelai squeezed his hand gently. She had an amused look on her face.

"Yes," Luke breathed, finally opening his eyes. He could feel his heartbeat in his hands and knew that she must be feeling the vibrations through his skin. He released his fingers from hers and slipped his hand around her lower back, scooting her crate closer to his. His expression was suddenly serious.

"And are you still there?"

She framed his face with her hands and forced herself to take her eyes off of his lips. "I told you," she said forcefully. "I'm always going to be here."

"Even after we go back?"

"Everywhere," she said. "Connecticut, California, Calcutta. I'll be there. I promise."

And he saw that she was sincere.

He gazed into her beaming eyes and finally felt almost at ease. His anxiety was slowly ebbing, his frustrations defused.

He took a deep breath, deeper than he'd ever taken, exhaled, released the distressed tension he'd been storing in his muscles. The sight of her over-heated, brightly colored cheeks and his diminishing anxiety made him completely light-headed.

"Cairo," she continued. "Cape Canaveral. You'd better nod or something because I got a million of these. Copenhagen. Cor-"

He suppressed a chuckle, pressing a thumb to her mouth while cupping her jaw. "I got it."

"Corpus Christie," she mumbled unintelligibly through her crushed lips.

As he gazed past her smile and into her tired face, Luke was fascinated by the look of frenetic passion in her eyes, wondering if something similar was being reflected in his own.

She understood him, she recognized the unquieted mind that his past relationships had left him with and she still wanted to take him on, knowing that she would have to convince him every day that she was in it for the long haul. She hadn't run away from the proposition of such a burden; she thought he was worth it.

She thought him worthy of her. Such a foreign notion.

He drew her into him and they both stood up simultaneously, pulling close to one another, holding each other. Lorelai breathed deeply, feeling a mixture of complete serenity and total satisfaction. She hoped she had been able to convince him of the depth of her feelings, no man had ever successfully demanded this of her.

She buried her nose in the open collar of his white shirt, sliding her hands underneath his jacket and around his trim waist. He smelled clean.

"Aren't you hot?" He asked a few minutes later, noting her clammy skin as he kneaded the back of her neck. The small, stuffy room that had been overheated to begin with was now something of a furnace. "Here," he offered, slipping her jacket over her shoulders.

"Luke, are you trying to undress me?" She asked teasingly. The look in her eyes was hazardous, he thought.

"No," he answered. "Stop presuming things."

She dropped her jacket on the crate, covering the green scarf, skimming the hair off her sticky shoulders.

"I'm not presuming anything," she responded, smiling playfully. She swept his suit jacket off his back with one brisk motion, letting it fall over hers below.

He recognized the look she was giving him from the first morning they were together.

"Stop," he said firmly, trying to look menacing.

She grinned and pressed her hands into his chest, backing him against the concrete wall. It felt refreshingly cool through the back of his thin shirt. "Seriously, Lorelai. Stop."

She countered by raising an eyebrow and stepped between his shoulder-width legs, grabbing his hips and pulling him against her waist. Once comfortably situated there, she caressed his face and neck, kissing with more force than she had previously.

As her sweet tongue skimmed over his, he succumbed. He stopped trying to recall Canseco's stats for his years with the A's and fell blissfully into the moment.

Lorelai pulled back and smiled as she felt him shift and swell between her thighs. She kissed and stroked his neck while mumbling, "We shouldn't be doing this."

Luke removed his hands from her waist and took hold of her bare arms, startling her. He then turned her, forcing her against the wall, settling his body over hers. "No, we shouldn't," he croaked, his grip firm on her wrists.

She whined as he sucked on the base of her neck, squirmed beneath his weight. His lips feathered under her jaw, his hot breath flushing her skin, an electric sensation mainlined through her body.

Lorelai had always admired Luke from the vantage point of several feet away. She'd stared at his hands, his lips, his eyes and wished they were all on her; stared at his chest, longingly at times, and aspired to one day be pressed against it, curled into it, rising and falling with his breath.

And now, though her range of vision was limited to the dangling cord of a bare bulb, she didn't have to remind herself that this was the man that was touching her, kissing her and holding her.

This, this moment was the enactment of countless fantasies, the fruit of years of wishful thinking, of jealous glances and unnoticed stares, she thought.

She'd imagined him there before, his body pressed into hers, his mouth searing its way down her neck. He was more subtle than she expected, pulling strings that most men don't think to pull when they've got a woman in their arms. With each kiss, he was inciting sensations that she didn't know she was capable of feeling. Suddenly, the tip of her shoulder was the most erotic patch of skin on her body.

Or maybe it wouldn't be a turn-on with any other man. She didn't plan on finding out.

Her hairline was tingling, her eyes forced themselves closed, her left leg involuntarily clutched the back of his thigh. She tried to draw his hips under her while she went up on her toes, trying desperately to leverage his hips under her, to climb his body. Luke, however, had pinned her to the wall in such a way that her efforts were rendered futile.

"Quit it," he muttered. The deep reverberation of his words went through his chest and into hers, rattling her body with the acute vibrations. She shivered severely.

As he straightened out to kiss her mouth, she turned her head away, keeping her eyes locked with his. "What is it?" He asked, concerned.

"Let go of my hands," she demanded, and Luke immediately untangled his fingers and let her hands drop to her side. He hadn't meant to push her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push…"

His eyebrows jumped as her fingers used their newfound freedom to slide the straps of her black camisole down off her shoulders. She eyed him seductively. "You weren't," she said in a mild tone.

"Lorelai," he groaned, "we're in church."

"We're not_ in_ church," she countered. "We're in a church. And… so what?" Her voice was close to a conspiratorial whisper. She was beginning to slide down her bra straps.

"But we're.. at a funeral," he said, not able to tear his eyes from her hands.

That got to her. Her hands stopped. She wrinkled her nose and guiltily pulled up the straps of her top, pushing herself off the wall. "God, yeah," she sighed. "You're right."

Luke caught her as she came off the wall, twisting a lock of her hair around his fingers and brushing the frayed edges along her clavicle.

"Maybe we should hold off, huh?"

"Yeah," she said grudgingly, looking around the dusty storage room. "Not very civilized, I guess. And I think I saw a mouse earlier, I don't do very well with an audience."

"No, I mean- we should hold off until we get back," he said, avoiding her eyes. "To Star's Hollow."

"Seriously?" She half-laughed, looking at him incredulously.

"I just…" He wasn't sure how to even go about explaining himself to her. He also was sort of stunned that he was even saying this to begin with. "I just think it would be… disrespectful. In a way. You know?"

"Disrespectful… toward me?" She was shaking her head slowly, trying to figure out where he was coming from.

"No," he said quickly, "Disrespectful toward… the reason we're here in the first place. Towards… you know." He sort of jerked his head towards the direction of the main room of the church. "It's not right."

She sighed and nodded. "Okay. Yeah, I know what you mean."

Luke handed her the jacket and the scarf lying on the crate as he shrugged his black suit coat back on. "Doesn't mean that, you know, I don't want to or anything," he said in a low voice, fixing his collar.

"I know," she answered, smiling.

"Because, I really do." He stepped back over to her and kissed her gently while pressing his body into hers, the evidence of his statement clear.

"I know," she said when their lips parted, smile broadening. "That's fine. If you can wait, I can wait."

He gave her a quick kiss and stepped away, watching her lean over and adjust her bra straps as she picked up her purse. "Well, we should try, anyway," he sighed.

* * *

Lorelai sat on the end of the pier, her bare feet swinging in the warm air. She looked out over the Channel Islands just visible in the distance, the setting sun coloring them with red and orange hues.

"Are you sure you don't want to go somewhere nicer?" Luke asked, coming up behind her. He handed her a basket of tacos from the stand across the way and sat down cross-legged, a little further from the edge.

"Are you kidding? This is perfect," she assured him. "Look how beautiful this is."

Luke gazed out for a moment, then up and down the length of the pier. The only person nearby was an old fisherman, casting his reel lazily as he read a novel. Lorelai's face glowed in the light of the sunset; she closed her eyes and breathed deeply as a salty breeze played with her curls.

"It really is," he said gently, taking her hand.

She grinned before she turned to look at him, her eyes narrowed in the refracted sunlight. "Since when are you such a romantic," she teased.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he asserted, matching her smile.

"Really," she said, delighted. "Do enlighten us, please."

He bit into his taco, deep in thought.

"Good taco," he said.

"Stop stalling," she answered, pushing him lightly.

"Well, for one thing, the way you're swinging your legs over the edge is making me really nervous."

She batted her eyelashes. "Why, afraid I'll fall?" She laughed, the boards creaking under her pumping legs.

"Will you just…" he put a hand on her bare knee, causing her to still. "Just don't. Please."

"Okay, fine. Then tell me something real."

He thought for a few moments. "I have to look into my shoes before I put them on."

"Seriously?" She squealed, overjoyed at this new piece of information. "What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know," he answered, smiling sheepishly. "Liz found a little snake in her boot one time when we were camping and, I don't know, ever since then…"

"That's like, psych ward material," she said. "I love it. What else?"

"Jeez," he mumbled. "Um… Let's see. My socks have to match."

"Boring. What else. Something not foot-related."

"I have a birthmark on my lower back."

"You're totally boring! C'mon, Luke, get creative. What else don't I know about you?"

"Hey, this isn't easy," he countered. "Your turn."

"It is too easy. Um, let's see, where to start." She thought a moment, then offered him a hand. "I'm secretly attracted to Ben Stein."

"I don't think I want to know any more," he grumbled.

"No!" She cried, laughing. "I get to keep going. Let's see… okay, I have a lucky pair of underwear, it has monkeys on it. Camels creep me out, I think it has to do with the spitting thing. Very unnatural. Um, when Rory was younger I used to make her watch _Plan 9 From Outer Space_ as punishment. Not that she ever did anything wrong, you know, but she wanted to go jogging once and I had to kill the instinct."

"Uh huh."

"What else. The first time I got drunk was from an emergency bottle of absinthe my dad brought back from France; I hallucinated that my toes were melting and haven't had it since. I have twelve credit cards, thirteen if you count my bank card. There was a week when I was pregnant where all I could eat were strawberries dipped in mayonnaise. Umm… oh, until recently, I used to slip a David Bowie CD into my parent's collection every few months, which would mysteriously disappear a week later."

He laughed to himself. "Okay, I get it," he said, putting an arm around her.

She settled comfortably into the crook of his arm. "Fine," she said, "You go then."

Luke was quiet a moment, rubbing Lorelai's knee. He looked out at the sailboats on the water, following them with his eyes.

"You know that blue hat you got me?"

"Yeah, of course."

He looked at her shyly, playing with her fingers. "That's probably my most prized possession."

She grinned, a laugh deep in her throat. She squeezed his hand. "I stole one of your shirts once."

"You what!" He cried.

"Yeah, um, the morning after the inn burned down, when I spent the night. I took it home, it's in my closet."

He laughed and kissed her temple. They were quiet, the sun had finally gone down, the islands no longer visible in the darkness. Damp clouds of mist hung around them, only really visible under the yellow lights of the pier.

Luke finally spoke. "I was jealous of Max."

She had been playing with the soft hair on his forearm, tracing the veins down to his calloused hands. She rolled his sleeve back down and smoothed out the cuff. "I was jealous of Rachel."

They both tightened their hold on one another. Luke leaned in to kiss her, tenderly stroking her back, shivering when she slowly pulled away.

"Let's go back to the room," she said quietly, her face solemn.

He nodded, helping her up, intertwining their fingers. Luke swung his jacket over his shoulder with his other hand, and together they walked back down the pier.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N:** I stopped disclaimering awhile ago, but you can still safely assume that these characters are borrowed.

Okay, and without **catterwall**, the story would be something like this:

**Luke:** so, u like me?

**Lorelai:** yes. ur hot.

**Luke: **kewl.

Totally super-human beta skills.

* * *

They breezed through the cool lobby, past the front desk and into the waiting elevator. Luke pressed the button, looking up into the mirrored ceiling and blinked at the picture of the two of them, all in black, propped up against opposite sides. 

'Lift off,' he thought to himself as it jolted upward. He hadn't bothered to stop thinking those words when he became an adult.

He continued to stare at his reflection in the ceiling mirror as Lorelai walked across the small space and buried herself inside his coat, tucking her black tresses under his raised chin. As the elevator slowed, she released him with a small peck and looked into his eyes, still cast heavenward.

He watched from above as she looked at him, kissed him, rubbed a hand over his chest plate, and eventually looked up to see what he was staring at.

Together, they stared at one another, seeing themselves together for the first time, watching themselves become a couple.

Luke saw her lower her eyes to his. He met her gaze.

"I'm exhausted," she breathed, lowering her lids and smiling. He rubbed her shoulders as she turned to exit.

"Me too. Let's get some sleep."

Lorelai waltzed into the room ahead of him, the cold, minty air awakening her senses a bit. She flopped down on the couch, slipping off her heels and tying up her hair. She leaned her head back and stopped just short of closing her eyes.

She watched him carefully as he flipped up his collar and undid his tie, unclasping his watch with a clatter on the nightstand. He removed his jacket and sat on the bed, fiddling with the laces on his shoes.

It was funny, she thought, how his muscles flexed in his broad shoulders from the small tremors of movement in his hands. Funny how he wrinkled his brow when taking off his socks, the way he straightened so severely while taking his wallet out of his back pocket.

He stood and turned towards her, untucking and unbuttoning his shirt from the top down. "Stop staring," he said without lifting his eyes.

She huffed a laugh and closed her eyes, rubbing her face. "You really wanna wait, huh?"

He chuckled, suppressing his delight at the remark. "I'll just finish changing in the bathroom." He balled up the grey sweatpants and ribbed shirt and headed for the door.

"I need to shower," he called, "but I'll leave the door unlocked if you want to get ready."

The door clicked closed.

Luke in the shower.

Lorelai hoisted herself upright, a devilish grin at the thought of Luke in the shower, completely vulnerable to her. Then she thought about what he'd said, about the inappropriateness and the waiting.

She thought about Mia, the funeral that afternoon. The scarf in her purse. The naked man in the shower.

She bit her lip and scraped her nails together rapidly, trying not to equate the two situations in her mind but needing a decision on the matter.

Walking over to her half open suitcase, she reached for the corner into which she'd stuffed her sleeping clothes. She was faced with the same dilemma as the past two nights.

The silky slip was hung seductively over the nozzle of her blow dryer and slid towards her as she opened the top. So unfair. She pulled out the pajama bottoms and sweatshirt. "It's cold," she reasoned. "Let's be sensible."

As she put the lid of the suitcase back down, the slip slid through the unzipped mouth on one side and piled onto the carpet. "God damn you," she muttered.

She heard the water turn on in the shower and she grabbed the slip off the floor, hastily shedding her clothes and letting it glide down her body.

She couldn't help but check to make sure her underwear matched her bra.

Good.

Lorelai cracked open the door to the bathroom, the steam escaping rapidly. She stuck her arm in and grabbed a bathrobe. Once securely tied around her waist, she picked up the flannels and buried them in her luggage, then folded and hung her black suit from earlier.

She was cleaning, she realized. She always cleaned when she was nervous.

"I am not nervous," she muttered under her breath. "Because nothing is going to happen. We're going to sleep. And that's that."

* * *

Luke let the water flatten his hair and run down over his face, careful not to get any in his ears. 

He tore open the paper-wrapped washcloth, soaped it up and rubbed down his body, beginning with his left shoulder. He always started with his left shoulder, then swept over his chest, then to the right shoulder, and then down between his legs.

He paused when he got to his stomach, careful not to touch the threatening appendage. Turning and soaking his hair instead, he squeezed the bottle of shampoo into his palm. His vision blurred as the water ran into his eyes.

The door opened without a sound, but he felt a rush of cold air envelop his body and knew she had entered the vicinity. His erection was immediate.

"Hi," Lorelai called out over the rushing water. "Is it okay that I'm in here?"

"Uh- yeah, I'm almost done," he called back, cracking a bit, feeling inexplicably guilty.

"Just brushing my teeth," her voice echoed.

Considering the associations he had with this daily ritual, hearing her voice reverberating off the shower walls was almost too much. He rested his head against the frigid tile and tried not to think about it, waiting for her to finish up and leave.

"I'll take the couch," he said, wanting to speak, maybe make the situation easier.

She didn't hear him over the rushing water. "What?" she garbled, her mouth full of toothpaste.

"I'll take the couch," he called, tilting his head upward. "You take the bed."

He was naked and having a conversation with Lorelai.

"I can't hear you," she hollered back. She rinsed and shut off the water. "Say again?"

He poked his head through the shower curtain, water dripping off his face. "I said, I'll sleep on the couch tonight. You can have the bed."

She took in his slicked-back hair and shining eyes, a rivulet of water changing course rapidly on his shoulder.

"You sure you don't want it?"

The "too" stuck in her throat.

"No no," he assured her, "it's all yours. I don't mind."

She gave him a quick smile and stepped over the toilet, giving him a brief kiss. His moistened lips and softened bristles were enough to make her strip off her clothes and step over the threshold of the tub, but his grimace stopped her. "Okay," she said quietly, "I'm gonna make some coffee before bed, do you mind?"

"No. Yeah. Go ahead."

She was frozen in her awkward position, leaning over toward him with her hand propped against the wall, steadying herself as she breathed into his mouth. "Okay," she finally managed. "Goodnight, then."

"'Night."

The second the door closed, he turned and faced the wall, then flicked the shower knob to the coldest setting. This was the only thing he could think of to do in this situation, when he felt like his body was absolutely vibrating with pent-up tension and he couldn't get away from it. Or, rather, from her.

He pressed his overheated, throbbing groin against the tile as the sudden stream of cold water stole his breath.

His body temperature was quickly dropping, feeling the freezing water cut into his flushed skin. He rubbed his face, trying to get it together enough to shut off the water and make his exit. If only there were a chair in here, he could think more clearly about the situation. Sitting helped him think. He settled for leaning his bare back against the wall.

Luke found that the shower head was detachable, and brought the nozzle down over his midsection while staring at the wall and willing himself to think about T.J. 'Desperate times,' he thought bitterly.

That seemed to work.

* * *

Though it could be argued that coffee was a stimulant, Lorelai found it quite helpful in situations such as this. She was a staunch supporter of self-medicating, especially when it served to fuel her caffeine abuse problem. She sipped her coffee, settling her nerves, dulling the forceful longing in her body. 

She wound shut the windows and pulled the heavy curtains closed, turning out all the lights save the desk lamp. The dim bulb flickered as she put her cup down on the surface.

Keeping her eyes glued to the bathroom door, she quickly shed her robe and dove under the covers.

As Lorelai collapsed onto the crisp pillows and buried herself in the comforter, her head swam with images of water.

The way it had dripped off his face in the shower, the streaming tears he'd wiped off her cheeks, the beads of sweat on his forehead as he willed himself not to cry. Beads of sweat as he looked up at her from the pillows, as she hovered over him, gripping her thighs and pushing himself into her, creating beads of sweat in the small of her arched back. The water cascading down his shoulder now in the other room, just over there.

She flipped over onto her face, an arm across her stomach.

This was how she'd slept for years, before she'd gotten pregnant, face-down into her mound of pillow. Her swelling belly had eventually made this arrangement impossible and she had relearned to sleep in the fetal position, curled in a ball, fists under her chin.

It was the way she imagined her daughter was sleeping inside her, it gave her an odd sense of comfort. And even now, she couldn't really relax unless she tucked up on her side.

Her thoughts drifted back to water, to the ocean. Sitting over it on the pier with him, wanting to be swallowed by it on the beach without him.

The warmth spread through her body as she thought about him there with her, about Luke, about being with Luke. He was hers. He belonged to her.

She sank deeper into the soft bed, tucking her forehead and eyes under the topmost pillow, hitching the hem of the slip just over her thigh, sliding her knee upward. At the touch of a cold patch of sheet, gooseflesh appeared on her legs, and she waited patiently for her body heat to warm the new spot.

The sound of rushing water in the walls finally stopped, and she could hear him rustling about inside the bathroom. She pictured him reaching for a big white towel, wrapping it around his waist, tucking it in at his hip while he stepped out of the tub. In the privacy of the hotel room, under the darkness of the bed covers, she allowed her hand to wander.

Arm stretched, gripping the corner of the long countertop as he brushed his teeth, head down. Hair drying, beginning to curl at the nape of his neck. Reaching for his fresh boxers. Unfastening and dropping the towel. She applied more force with her fingertips, rubbing slow circles through the thin, cotton fabric.

She heard him clear his throat from inside, making her jump, her hand yanking back up her stomach.

Lorelai wasn't sure she was going to make it through the night. She sandwiched her head between her pillows, trying to get control of herself Trying not to bite the pillow.

She opened her mouth, crossed her eyes and wrinkled her nose.

She didn't want to push him when he clearly wasn't ready. Actually, there was a slight pang of shame for not feeling guiltier about their situation; the reason she agreed to hold off until they got back to Stars Hollow was for fear of damaging something in their fragile relationship- not for the extreme inappropriateness of what she'd hoped to do with him.

She tried consciously to dwell on it, but it didn't do much to convince her hands into idleness. If only the coffee would kick in, she thought, she could ignore the insistent pulsing in her torso. Sleep was the only way out of this, she was almost certain. She closed her eyes and willed herself to think about TJ.

* * *

Unfortunately, the sweatpants Luke had been planning on wearing to bed weren't being extraordinarily cooperative. He stared down at the huge bulge in his pants, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. 

There was still light coming from under the door, he knew she was still awake. Or maybe she'd just left the light on for him to see by. He kept his pile of dirty clothes in front of his pants as he opened the door, just in case.

He surveyed the scene and could only see a few stray black curls coming out from underneath the pillows, the only hint that there was any life in the oversized bed. Relieved that she was asleep, he tiptoed over to the couch, dropped his stuff and took the blankets out of the closet, arranging the covers.

The whole situation was making him really skittish; he wanted nothing more than to step outside onto the balcony for a few minutes and breathe in some fresh air, settle his tingling stomach. But the sliding open of the door, he reasoned, would probably wake her up, and that was precisely the situation that he didn't trust himself to be in.

He imagined her giving him a sleepy, sexy smile from the middle of that bed, saying his name. There was no chance in hell he'd be able to steady himself. No, better to stay inside.

"Luke?"

Goddamnit.

He rooted to his spot, lifting the back cushion halfway out of the small couch. "Yeah?" He whispered. "Sorry, am I being loud? I thought you, ah, were asleep."

Lorelai unearthed herself from her mountain of covers and sat up, tousling her hair and sighing through her nose.

"I wasn't asleep," she murmured, drawing her knees up to her chest. She glared away from the lamp, her eyes adjusting after having been buried for so long.

He forced himself to move under her eyes, continuing to absent-mindedly fluff things. "Want me to turn out the light?"

She hummed a response. "C'mere first, though."

Shit. "Why?" he demanded.

"Just do it. Just for a second."

Luke felt like he was walking into the lion's den as he hooked his arm around the bottom bed post.

"Yeah?"

"Closer," she said.

He stepped about half the distance, putting his hand on the edge of the bed about a foot from her knee.

"Luke!" she cried, exasperated. She dropped her knees onto the bed and swung herself forward, using the bottom of his shirt to leverage herself closer. "I'm not going to attack you," she said, smiling. "I just wanted a goodnight kiss. Come over here."

She fell back onto the pillows, not letting go of his shirt, pulling him over her. He struggled to keep his knee from sliding onto the bed, mentally convincing himself that his bare feet had been tied to the floor and that it would be impossible.

With a last glance at his lips, Lorelai pulled him into her mouth without hesitation, kissing him deeply.

She slipped her other hand around the back of his neck, her fingers reaching down the collar of his shirt. Luke kept a hand pressed into the mattress, the other immediately taking up a mass of her thick curls, holding her to him.

His skin was still moist from the shower, his hair still wet. She broke the kiss and looked down at her hand, holding it up for inspection. "Your hair is still wet," she noted, her voice an octave deeper than before.

Luke shut his eyes, dreading having to stand straight up. "Can we go to sleep now?"

She nodded sincerely, stroking the forearm by her side. Stared at him for a second. "Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes, noting a poorly-hidden smirk behind her words.

"I'm fine," he said through clenched teeth, finally straightening, trying subtly to adjust his waistband.

He felt the blush creep into his cheeks as he turned away. She settled deep into the bed, leaning her head back, giving him that sleepy smile, stifling a giggle. "Sorry."

He ran a hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly. "Goodnight," he said, halfheartedly. He turned the switch on the small lamp, leaving only shades of dull gray streaked across the room from the window.

Luke stood for a moment, listening to her rustle a few feet away as she got comfortable. He could be in that bed with her, right now.

What in the _hell_ was he doing? His utmost fantasy was two feet away from him and he was opting instead to spend the night on a microscopic couch.

This time, it was more definitive. "Goodnight."

She smiled as she felt herself start to drift off.

* * *

Lorelai stood on the porch of the old Independence Inn, glasses on, poring over an open portfolio, checking things off a long list. She caught his eye as he started up the stairs. 

"Luke! Good, there you are. Just wanted to let you know that everything is all set for tonight."

"Good," he echoed. "Good. Thanks. For everything. You've been… great."

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his suit, hunching his shoulders and rocking on his heels. Her mouth was set in a straight line, she looked uncomfortable.

"So you ready?" She asked, a poor attempt at small-talk.

"Yeah," he breathed, "Rachel's really excited, she just went with her sister to pick up the dress and get her makeup done and everything…."

He knew he was supposed to say something to her, but didn't know what, or where to start, how to fix what had happened. All he got was that he was marrying the wrong person and couldn't do anything about it.

She adjusted her glasses and closed her portfolio, squaring her shoulders. The look on her face broke him completely; a sort of disappointment, a lack of warmth. Like she wanted to hate him, but could only bring herself as far as pity.

He continued to stare at her, holding her gaze. He breathed in the heady smell of freshly cut grass baking there in the hot sun and felt sick to his stomach.

Silently, Lorelai reached up and touched the hollow of his throat.

He froze. His heart tugged toward her hand.

At this point, he wasn't sure if she was about to kiss him or throttle him, but he knew that either one would be a welcome alternative to walking to the altar with anyone but her.

He watched, not being able to swallow for fear of disturbing the moment, as she stepped forward and kissed his neck, the space between his clavicles.

"I'm going to miss you," she said, a bitter timbre in her low voice.

Luke felt his heart break. His arms inexplicably glued to his sides as she turned.

His vision pulled back to a birds-eye view as Rachel came up the stairs.

He watched as her red tresses tucked under his chin, wrapped her arms around him. Glanced up to see what he was looking at.

Smiled, as she had smiled, catching his eye as they watched themselves become a couple.

It was the wrong scene. He did this in an elevator with Lorelai. That's what's right. It's not something he does with Rachel on a porch.

Luke couldn't stop it, couldn't go back to the way it had been. Everything was ruined. Panic entered his chest, tugged as his vocal chords.

He looked into Rachel's adoring face.

He tried to calm himself with the thought that, maybe if he really kept at it, he could spend the rest of his life with his eyes closed. He could picture Lorelai when she was around, and maybe eventually, one day, Rachel would turn into her in his mind.

Then, maybe he could get back to where he was.

He could probably eventually sublimate her voice as well, hearing it as Lorelai's, He could teach her to drink coffee and hire someone to play her daughter, follow her around and attend Yale.

"I love you," Rachel said, placing his blue cap on his head securely on his head, tying the green scarf around his throat. "So much."

He looked away, not caring to humor her. The lawn of the inn was decorated with white folding chairs and thousands of yellow daisies. Sookie and Jackson walked to the front, pushing wheelbarrows full of flowers, spreading them around where he and Rachel were to stand in just a few hours.

Lorelai sat in the front row, staring intently at the woman in his arms, a deadened look in her eyes. She wouldn't meet his gaze, so focused was she on Rachel.

God, she looked so thin and frail, sitting out alone, just watching. Her hair hanging in lifeless wisps around her face. He couldn't breathe with the scarf around his neck; he couldn't breathe when he looked at her.

And as Rachel turned and walked away, Luke became a little boy, blue cap falling down over his eyes.

The feeling of lost love washed over him. It was the same feeling he'd had when his mother had passed on, then his father. Then with Rachel.

He looked down at the lawn for Lorelai, but she was gone. The chairs had all turned black and in the place of the altar was a coffin. The place was deserted.

He ran to the front of the building, his short legs moving as quickly as they could but taking him nowhere. No one was around.

He called out his mother's name frantically, then Liz's. Then his dad's. No answer. His heart began beating faster, the rush of blood in his ears deafening him slightly.

Luke didn't know who was in the coffin, but standing frozen, head turned toward it, he knew that was the only person left. His voice echoed and he knew it wasn't falling on living ears.

He tried calling out again, tried squeezing his eyes shut and belting out loudly from his tightened stomach, but his voice had stopped working completely. He could only emit scratchy, strained whines from his throat.

A cold, intense fear grew in the pit of his stomach as he realized that he was alone. He was too young to take care of himself. He couldn't hear anything now except for the dull thudding of his pulse.

The panicky feeling was overwhelming as he tried the inn door. Locked. He stopped to breathe harshly and still his trembling hands.

He threw himself against the door, to no avail. He begged to get inside before the abandonment that chased him swallowed him whole. He hung his whole weight on the brass door knob to get it to turn. He tried shouting for help, tears trickling past his clenched eyes, clutching his hand around his throat to make his voice work. Nothing.

He was totally alone. Completely abandoned. He tried screaming one last time before being enveloped by the darkness.

* * *

Lorelai leapt from bed, kneeling in front of him on the couch. "Luke," she insisted, gently shaking him awake. "Hey, wake up." 

His face was burning, the heat radiating from his papery skin. His legs were completely tangled in the sheets. He bolted upright, eyes wide, breathing deeply. Struggling to trust one reality or another before he let the dream go.

"Sweetie, you were dreaming," she urged, helping break through the fog. She squeezed his hot cheeks together, the way she'd done with Rory as a kid.

"Where were you," he asked softly, his thick voice cracking. He blinked rapidly, trying to gain a sense of his surroundings.

"I'm right here," she reassured, stroking his arms, brushing her hand through his hair. "It's fine."

Her familiar smell enveloped him and he immediately felt safe. It was the smell that had haunted him for so many years, the only thing that would make him look up from the counter, just to see her breeze in and strut toward him with a story on her lips.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up to sit on the edge of the couch. "Sorry," he murmured. "Bad dream."

"Yeah, I sorta figured. Wanna tell me about it?"

"No," he said simply, reaching up to touch her face. "I… it doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're here." He sounded groggy, his voice still cracking.

She smiled into the dark, swiping his cheeks with her thumbs, making sure there were no tears. "Do you think you can fall back asleep?"

He paused a moment. The strong emotions left churning from the dream still hadn't evaporated. Feelings of loss, abandonment and panic still thrummed in his chest, making him shake.

"I'll be fine."

"Mmkay," she murmured, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Goodnight."

She stood up from the small couch and found that she couldn't drop his hand. He wouldn't let go of her fingers.

They regarded one another's silhouettes, peering into the darkness and listening for any indication of what was about to happen.

Wordlessly, Lorelai tugged on his hand, lacing her fingers through his as he stood. He hovered over her a moment, his stubble just grazing her cheek. She pressed her nose into his jaw and, without a sound, led him back to the bed.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

A/N: Without **catterwall** and her ability to restructure sentences, this chapter would have contained an unfortunate incident in which Lorelai yanks off Luke's head and launches it across the room unceremoniously.

And please, take care not to read this chapter in public. Or in front of anyone in general, like at your local library, at work, starbucks, what have you. This is closet-with-a-flashlight type stuff.

* * *

Lorelai carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, not lifting her eyes from Luke as he lingered above her. She finally released his hand and slid back, cutting a swath across the cool sheets, leaving space for him between them.

And though Luke hesitated, it wasn't the beautiful woman in the provocative nightdress that ended up tempting him into that bed. It was Lorelai, the look of reverent adoration she was wearing as she watched his internal debate.

Luke skimmed one knee onto the mattress, followed by the other, and kneeled over her, placing a hand on her hip bone. She stilled. His eyes raked over her, glowing in the darkness with a faint smirk. "You wore that on purpose, didn't you?"

Lorelai laughed, releasing a nervous breath and pulling him down onto her, helping to arrange his limbs comfortably around her body.

He gripped her side tightly as they both nestled into one another, tucking her waist into the crook of his arm and burying face-down into her neck. He dropped a kiss on her collar bone, reaching up hesitantly to touch the soft space between her clavicles where she'd kissed him goodbye in his dream.

The embers of his recent emotions flared again; the profound impression of sadness pressed against his chest. His eyes clenched shut at the memory.

"You weren't there," he said softly, sleep and emotion closing his throat and lowering his voice.

Lorelai lightly rubbed the lobe of his ear. His weight had pinned her down, and it was the only body part she really had access to.

She kissed the top of his head. "That wasn't me," she reminded him gently. "That's not me." She ached to soothe him further, but he wouldn't tell her how.

He squeezed her as tightly as he could, grazing a kiss into the hollow of her shoulder. "I know," he said, his breath causing a shiver.

She was hyperaware of his presence, her body humming after every light touch, every small movement. As his hand rested on her upper arm, playing with the end of an escaped strand of hair, every centimeter of flesh in contact with his was instantly covered with goosebumps.

Luke released his hold on her and abruptly sat up, pulling up the covers that had been kicked to the bottom of the bed.

"Here," he offered, securing the comforter around her from the neck down. "This should warm you up." He tucked it under her shoulders, and ran his hands up and down her arms rapidly.

Lorelai peered at him quizzically. "What are you doing?"

"You're freezing," he answered simply. "Look at you, you keep shivering."

The abruptness of her laugh startled him. She unearthed herself from the heavy quilt, shoving it back down the mattress with her legs.

"Trust me," she said, her face suddenly serious. "It's not the cold."

He grinned, realizing he was having an effect on her, propping himself up on one elbow. He reached down, nuzzling and kissing the hollow of her shoulder again. "Was it this?" he murmured softly.

She tilted her head back, laughing, though this time as an attempt to calm the restless feeling gnawing at her stomach. The very same gnawing that was making her hands involuntarily clutch the hem of his shirt.

"Don't," she cried out desperately, turning her head away from him. "Luke!"

He slyly slipped a knee under her thigh, angling himself above her. "What about this," he muttered, a laugh in his voice as he kissed the hairline at the nape of her neck. "This make you cold too?"

She moaned quietly as he traced a graceful crescent into her skin. Breathing deeply, she let her eyes flutter closed, drawing her knees upward and apart.

"Luke," she half-whispered, turning to him. She watched him steadily, not able to control the smile on her face. "You were the one who wanted to wait."

He dropped her gaze and pulled back. "I know."

Sliding his knee out from under her and drawing himself away, he let his eyes wander over her body. He memorized her curves, the way the silky fabric was pooling at her waist, her rosy cheeks. The words "sexual purgatory" entered into his mind.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously as she waited for a response, this small gesture making his stomach flip.

"I don't… think I can," he admitted, his eyes rapidly searching hers as he watched for a response.

Her expression softened as she drew in a slight breath. She slid a hand to her heart, the other arm draping across her stomach protectively. She gave a light smirk, her stomach now littered with butterflies.

"Really?"

Luke curled an arm around her, drawing her effortlessly into the arc of his lean body, kissing her passionately. The sudden contact forced the breath out of both of them as they exhaled into one another's skin. Their tongues swirled and dipped with an easy cadence as Lorelai pulled down urgently on the collar of his shirt.

She swung a leg over his, drawing him against her and eliciting a muffled moan from deep inside his chest.

God, she could feel him pulsating through the cotton of his sweatpants as he strained against her bare thigh.

He reluctantly separated his lips from hers, pinning her arms against the mattress and shifting himself further between her legs. They locked eyes, and he slowly began to understand the gravity of the situation, of what they were about to do. And now that he had her shivering beneath him, now that he was on the verge of fulfilling that which had always been his paramount fantasy, he had no idea where to begin.

His gaze swept over her, picking out patches of skin he wanted to spend hours getting better acquainted with.

Lorelai felt his hesitation and softly applied pressure to the small of his back, wrapping her legs around him, lifting her head to kiss him encouragingly. He responded immediately, rubbing the back of her thigh as he sucked on her neck, leaving visible marks in his wake.

She slid her hands down his sides, under the elastic band of his sweats, dragging her nails languidly up his hips. From there they traced up the muscles in his back, his neck, into his hair and curled around his protruding shoulder blades. He arched his back against her palms.

Luke allowed a loose fist to linger on her rib cage, his knuckles occasionally grazing the curvature of her breast, inciting a shudder from Lorelai as she tried to telepathically move his hand upward. He pulled away to catch his breath, finally cupping his hand over her hardened nipple and slowly applying pressure, moving his lips back down to her neck as she groaned.

It had been such an emotionally volatile few days, culminating in an implicit trust between them, a sort of unspoken pact to ease one another into this relationship.

Luke had faith in her, now faith in them together- but that didn't mean he wasn't going to draw out this experience like it was his only chance.

His other hand was busying itself further up, playing with the strap of her nightgown, tempting it down, inch by inch.

Lorelai, in turn, was completely frenzied by his pace; his every movement, every gesture had become maddeningly slow, impossibly attentive, and it served to further agitate her actions. She pawed at the back of his shirt and coaxed his head down. Yanking the fabric from his back, she launched it across the room unceremoniously, entwining and squeezing her legs around his waist.

He stopped and looked down at her, his ministrations having been interrupted by her hurried agenda. A sort of restrained delight constricted his chest when their eyes met. "You okay?"

She gave him a bashful smile and chewed the edge of her thumbnail, nodding. "Sorry."

He huffed a laugh and slowly dipped his head back down to her throat, running his lips over her skin so lightly; his hand was back down on her stomach, inching its way up from square one.

"Okay, seriously," she jumped in, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling them face-to-face. "Can I help you?"

Though taken aback, he challenged her look with a nod, cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, go ahead," he dared her. "Help me."

And without hesitation, she lifted her backside off the bed, pulling the slip up and over her hips, pushing him backwards off of her and sitting up on her knees. "Here," she offered with a smirk, raising her arms. "The rest is all you."

Luke realized that he should have been expecting this kind of behavior from her in bed, knowing her so well everywhere else. She couldn't slow down for anything, savor anything for more than just a moment.

He made a mental note to teach her that when they got back home.

With Rachel, he'd never been the sexually dominant one, simply by virtue of the fact that he had been completely inexperienced in comparison. And though she wanted him to take control sometimes, she was the only person he'd ever allowed dictation from. Not just in bed, but anywhere, if he could help it, up until this moment.

He rolled his eyes. "This isn't going to work, y'know."

Lorelai froze, her hands still in the air. "What's not."

"You. Making me undress you. It's not going to get you there any faster."

She made the same face she would've made had she been stamping her foot, arms still raised. Luke came up on his knees as well, lowering her locked arms onto his shoulders. Without so much as a glance below her neck, he smoothed the fabric back down her sides, tugging on the hem to make sure it was secure. "This comes off when I take it off," he growled, pulling her closer.

Lorelai set her jaw, her hard blue eyes unblinking. Her silence was acquiescence enough.

He spread her knees apart on the bed, pulling her completely over him, onto his lap. Tracing light circles on the backs of her thighs, watching her eyes flutter closed as she relished the feeling.

Luke kissed the tip of her nose. "Just… relax," he said softly, his eyes still on her as he moved upward, skimming and tracing lines from her knee to her waist.

Her muscles involuntarily loosened under his touch, falling into submission under his caresses.

The tiniest movement caught Luke's eye and he pressed up against her jaw with his palm, tilting her head back; it was her pulse, barely visible, beating through her skin. He leaned in and held his lips to it softly, trying to soothe it. After a few moments, however, he realized it had only quickened.

Taking a firm hold of her outer thighs, just below the hem of her slip, he widened his knees, forcing her legs further apart, cupping her ass to support her weight. Finally closing his eyes, he kissed her deeply, enveloping her entire body as he squeezed her, thrusting against her. She moaned into his moistened neck at the brief but agitated contact, nipping at his shoulder in response, trying to grind down over him again.

Releasing his grip on her, Luke kissed her chest and began sliding down her straps, drawing his bottom lip over the top of her breasts as he went.

He couldn't really believe Lorelai was letting him touch her like this. A questioning look was affirmed as he peeled the satin gown from her skin, letting it settle at her waist.

The cool air breezing in from the open window hit her skin and licked the small beads of sweat from the back of her neck. She reached behind her and pulled her hair into a fist, watching him stare at her breasts as she arched, her hair slowly tied into a knot.

His eyes were glazed over as he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her, breathing deeply, immersed in the feeling of her nipples pressed into his chest, fruitlessly abating the hunger for more contact.

Luke splayed his hands across the exposed skin of her back, flattening her against him, cradling the back of her head as he lowered her onto the pillows.

The blood rushed into Lorelai's head as she tilted into his hands, trusting him to deliver her safely to the mattress. "Hey, um…" Her voice came out softly, forcing his attention back on her. She smiled as she noted the droplet of sweat forming on his hairline, brushing it off with her thumb as she spoke.

"I'm… covered. Safe and everything. Just so you know."

He nodded. It hadn't even occurred to him that she wouldn't be. "So, everything is, ah, in order?"

"Yes," she answered, sliding her finger along the small dent in his chest.

Luke smirked. "Even after that last guy?"

She whapped him squarely on the head with a pillow as he ducked his face into her, trying to avoid her blows.

He finally managed a hold on her wrist, pinning her to the bed, a smitten look on his face . "Are you done?"

Hands inaccessible, she angled a huff upwards, attempting to blow the strands of hair out of her eyes. "No."

"Lorelai," he growled in a warning voice, joining her wrists under one arm and tickling her bare skin with the other.

She erupted in laughter, squirming violently. "Okay," she yelled, "fine. I'm finished."

He let go of her with a big smooch on the cheek, brushing her hair out of her face and smiling. "Dirty," he mumbled, concentrating on the strand stuck to her eyebrow. "And totally not true."

She snickered, shifting out from under him and pinning him easily, straddling his stomach. Wriggling on top of him, she flexed her thighs against his muscles.

Luke immediately felt the wetness soaking through her underwear and onto his skin, a realization that abruptly threatened his release.

Instinctually, he clutched and pushed down on the top of her thighs in an attempt to grind her over the agonizing muscles in his groin, grunting when she resisted.

She suspended herself over him instead, biting and pulling his lower lip teasingly, a laugh in her throat. "Don't ever tickle me," she hummed in his ear, nipping at the lobe. Luke took a deep breath, kissing her more forcefully than he ever had, sliding his hands down her back and squeezing her cheeks.

Still on her knees, Lorelai backed down the bed, kissing a trail down his neck and chest, gliding her fingertips just above the band of his pants.

Her face hovering just over his midsection, she hooked her thumbs around his pants and boxers, sliding them down a half an inch. Her gaze was so intense when she locked eyes with him, it made him both self-conscious and aroused.

Luke swallowed hard, threw an arm across his forehead and stared back, not daring to miss a moment.

With a fiendish smile, she drew down the elastic, following her hand with draggle of her tongue down his thigh. He accommodated her, lifting his defined pelvis, sliding back into the headboard.

She relished the sight of him for a moment, writhing beneath her as she ran her nails up and down his bare hips, his eyes flinching.

He finally composed himself, returning her gaze. And once she had his full attention, she slowly wrapped her fingers around the base and took him in her mouth, her dark hair tickling his thighs.

It took every single ounce of Luke's energy and focus not to pass out, by virtue of the sheer exertion of withholding eruption.

Rocking his hips, he clutched the sheets with a despairing groan, eyebrows knitted together.

"Lorelai," he croaked, breathing furiously. She applied more pressure with her lips, pressing her tongue tight against his shaft as she moved.

"Stop," he commanded, this time his tone clear. She obeyed, embarrassment clouding the confusion on her face as she met his eyes.

"Please, stop. I- um," he cleared his throat and gave her a quick smile, hoping to convey his message. "Just… stop."

She let out her breath with a grin, understanding. "Sorry."

Pinning his erection against his abdomen, she slid his boxers back up, turning and pulling off his pants. His legs were sticky with the coat of sweat she'd managed to paint him with in just a few minutes.

Climbing back up his body, she settled on top of him with a kiss, letting him roll them both over. As she cupped the back of his neck, Luke suddenly broke the kiss, reaching up and taking her fingers in his hand.

"Why are you so cold?" he asked, concerned.

Amused, she led his hand to her breast, also icy to the touch. "It happens. You know, when all your blood is… otherwise occupied. After it rushes to more important places," she explained, clenching his thighs between hers on the last word.

"Huh," Luke muttered absent-mindedly. "I must be freezing."

She snaked her toes up his calf, hooking her foot around him. He flinched from the sensation, as her feet were like ice; however, his thoughts were well employed by the soft breast in his hand and didn't dwell on it long.

"Hey, Luke?" She interrupted as his mouth began working her nipple.

He looked up, reluctant to let go. "Hm?"

A warm smile spread across her face, eyes radiant. She spoke deliberately, the cadence foreign to his ears. "I think this is probably… the coldest I've, um, ever been. You know, with anybody."

It took a moment for the meaning of her words to sink in, but he eventually matched her grin with a nod, kissing her lovingly on the mouth. "Me too," he said softly, brushing the tousled hair from her shoulders

Lorelai pressed her cheek solidly into his, feeling the stubble, feeling the similar burning of flesh mirrored in her own. She felt as if something inside her had melted, soaking every inch of her that ached.

Luke gently tugged on the crumpled slip that still hung at her waist, tucking up her legs, sliding the satin fabric over her curves.

As his lips pressed and teased the skin of her stomach, his fingertips pressing against her lower back, she tangled her hands in his hair in an effort to guide his mouth down between her legs. She shivered when he wouldn't budge.

Unable to wait, she slid her right hand downward, grazing her fingertips against her swollen arousal. He froze in place, forehead resting against her abdomen, watching the fluid motions of her hand.

Every square inch of Luke's body was tingling, vibrating with anticipation. The hair on his arms stood on end, he couldn't tear his eyes from her hand, his jaw refused to unclench. At the first deep moan that escaped from Lorelai's lips, he ducked his head under her leg and pushed her hand away, nipping at the thin, wet cotton of her panties, gripping her bucking thighs.

Without provocation, she lifted her legs and placed her feet together on Luke's back, hitching up her midsection to roll her underwear from her damp hips.

As her feet were weighing down on his back, he had no choice but to watch the procession from his front row view. Where there was white cotton, he saw only glistening skin. Before he could move, she wrapped her legs around his shoulders, drawing him into her.

He let a finger glide cautiously along the slit, glancing up at her to gauge her reaction. Her chest was heaving, her gaze just as intense as before.

He decided he loved the bottom of her body just as much as the top. The tiny birthmark on the very inside of her thigh got special attention.

As his tongue skimmed and submerged, he struggled to keep her hips pinned down as they flexed repeatedly to the most subtle movements. Luke's erection, trapped between his body and the mattress, found its own rhythm, in harmony with hers.

Unsubtle vibrations began rocking the bed, and he finally withdrew his mouth from her. Lorelai had been pounding a fist into the mattress.

Luke sat up, noting the shiver at the absence of his tongue. He aimlessly rubbed a finger across the opening between her legs, an attempt to compensate for the loss, marveling at the feel of her. Stroking the leg that was still tossed over his shoulder, he fully regarded her body for the first time, his face full of affection and adoration.

Knowing full well that every man she'd been with had probably made a remark of some sort, he managed to refrain from telling her how beautiful she was. His expression, however, betrayed his silence, and a smile crept over her face as she sat up to take his hand.

Palming and gripping his neck, she whispered his name against his mouth as he kissed her softly, his hands pressing her open thighs against the mattress. Giving him her last docile look, she grasped him tightly, guiding him inside her.

Every line in Luke's mind was erased at that moment; the muted, controlled expression he'd been struggling to maintain had given way to a strained grimace, intensely creased brow and begging eyes.

Their lips were neglected as they clutched one another for dear life, their limbs hopelessly vised together, bodies grinding, sweat smearing.

Lorelai's hot gasps spasmed out of her and into his ear. Her nails scraped his back, her legs ensnared his body and teeth clamped down on his shoulder, trembling from the urgent, immediate anticipation of orgasm.

Poor Luke just tried to hold it together; every time her muscles contracted around him, each twitch against his abdomen, every gauzy taste of her salty neck, his body became perceptibly more tense, resisting the upsurge of pleasure.

Exhausted from the fight, Luke forced his eyes open, pressing his forehead and nose into Lorelai's, relieved to find his frantic gaze being returned.

The torrid look in his eyes immediately pitched her into climax. Her muscles constricted tightly around his hardened groin, her body shuddering, a strangled cry forcing itself from her throat. She grasped at the skin on his back as he finally let go, a hoarse, preemptive moan pressed into her shoulder.

Lorelai hugged him tightly as his convulsions died down, the throbbing slowing. After a few moments of stillness, he lovingly kissed her bare shoulder.

With a satisfied groan and a gentle peck on her lips, Luke slid out of her as she brushed the damp hair off his face, both noticing the first traces of dawn in the grey sky.

They stared out the open window, both thinking the other had fallen asleep, breathing evenly. Eventually, Luke stirred, rolling onto his back, regarding her for a moment. Tracing the sharp line of her hip, he smiled sleepily, pulling her down on top of him.

"Thanks for seducing me," he said, his voice impossibly low in her ear.

She propped her elbows up on either side of his head, smiling down at him. "I think we just upgraded those junior suites in hell."

Luke delighted in her grin, reveling in the feeling of her naked body draped casually over his.

"Totally worth it, though," he murmured into her skin as he drifted off.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

A/N: I didn't want to see it end, but after writing about fifteen chapters more than I initially intended, it's time to let it go.

And to **catterwall** I am indebted my first-born.

* * *

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," Lorelai muttered. As the flight attendant cruised past to the back of the plane, she flashed Luke a big smile, pressed a hand into his shoulder. 

"Back again!" She exclaimed brightly, breezing over them an overwhelming dose of gardenia.

His gaze wavered between the two women, finally settling on the tray table in front of him. "Yup."

It had already been a long day. It wasn't even noon.

Between the three-hour time difference and their unexpected escapade in the middle of the night, they'd slept well past their check-out time and had to rush through their morning, packing hastily and neglecting morning rituals. Unwashed and uncaffeinated, this is not the Lorelai he'd been fantasizing about waking up to for so many years. She glared at the flight attendant out of the corner of her eye, feigning interest in the SkyMall catalogue.

They dropped by the house to say a final goodbye to the family, both feeling the burden of guilt settle over them, both reminded of the impropriety of their actions just hours before.

Their flight had been delayed, the sky overcast. Neither of them wanted to go home; it seemed too early to thrust their fragile relationship back into reality, to try and rebuild their daily routines around this newly evolved romance they were bringing home with them. Like an awkward sort of emotional souvenir.

As Sandi sashayed back down the aisle, Lorelai couldn't help but notice the level of intensity going into Luke's staring contest with the tray table in front of him. Well, points for not watching her walk away, she supposed, briefly wondering when her idle jealousies had become hostile.

Luke's discomfort level had been rising steadily since his first waking moments. As they threw their luggage hastily into the back of the taxicab, he couldn't help but feel robbed of a morning alone together.

It had been years since he'd woken up with that warm, pleasurable feeling running through his body and not had to extinguish it, to remind himself that he was alone and he had to go downstairs and maybe he'll get to see her for lunch, at least.

His first conscious feelings this morning, however, had been those of securely entwined fingers, her elegant lines, a cheerful, warm rump settling comfortably into his bare lap. A leg swung over his with a deep sigh. And then she'd ripped their snug little cocoon apart, jumping out of bed and throwing on clothes and lobbing flannel at his head in an effort to get him up faster after realizing the time.

And now another woman was poised over him, handing him the cup of tea he'd requested. "Be careful," she purred, "it's _very _hot."

"Got it, thanks."

Lorelai's jealousies were unfounded, of course. His thoughts were far more gainfully occupied than the silly flight attendant who'd flirted with him so shamelessly.

He had imagined Lorelai's breasts to be much less dense than they actually were. He thought about their weight in his hands, about how bipolar her hair was in the morning. Her arms looked less firm than they actually were. And he'd never imagined her having particularly bony hips before, but there was hardly any meat on them, he could vouch for that now. The weird dent by her lip, the one that only appeared when she laughed genuinely, was now the sexiest thing he'd ever seen on a woman.

"You know," the flight attendant leaned down conspiratorially, "we've got some shortbread cookies in the back that are reserved for first class passengers only?" She seemed to be suffering from chronic up-speak. "But maybe, if you're lucky I can snag you some. I'll come by later?"

The second she and her drink cart strutted out of earshot, Lorelai thwapped him soundly across the knee, bringing him back from his thoughts.

"What the hell was that for!" he cried.

"Um, there was a bug," she mumbled, taking a sip of her coffee. "Gone now."

Luke sighed, pressing his large frame down into the seat. "So... are you nervous about being home?" he asked, not coming up with a better way to introduce the topic of their relationship.

"Why would I be nervous?" she answered quickly, a nervous laugh cushioning her words. After a pause, she matched his sigh.

"Yeah, maybe a little."

He placed a hand over her violently twitching knee. "It'll be fine," he assured her. "We'll be fine."

"I know," she said despondently. "You know, maybe we shouldn't tell people right away. What with the funeral and all."

Luke let out a slow breath. "I can wait, yeah. Sure." He leaned over and gave her an uncertain sort of kiss on the cheek, taking her hand. "Whatever makes you comfortable is fine."

Lorelai turned her head, squaring them nose to nose. "Hey. You know what my first thought was this morning?" Her voice suddenly had a seductive quality to it now.

He smiled, the giddiness flooding into his chest. "What?"

"I thought…" She paused, briefly considering the weight of her words. "I thought, this is it for me."

Closing his eyes, he leaned his temple into the seat.

The sense of security that filled him, the very moment her words sank in, was overwhelming. He thought that feeling, one that had been estranged from his heart long ago, couldn't possibly return.

Unable to speak, he let his eyes roam over her face and squeezed the knee under his hand, feeling the blood rushing to his face.

"Hey, that's okay, you know?" She blurted in an awkward voice. "You don't have to return the sentiment; I just wanted to inform you." Her smile was flustered, her eyes averted. Luke squeezed her knee again.

"Oh, come on," he laughed, the lines in his face creasing deeply. "I've thought that for years. You're just realizing it now? Gimme a break."

* * *

So she spent the rest of the flight dozing lightly in the crook of Luke's arm, trying not to stir when he would periodically smooth a hand over hers or lean a nose into her hair. 

When she had turned to him that morning, lying on her back in the first waking moments, she'd been delighted to discover the creases and dents marked into half his face by the pillows. And in that half, she'd let her mind turn the grooves into wrinkles, imagined his droopy lids heavy with age instead of sleep, the hair on his head snow white.

The image in her mind roused her senses, allowed her to more easily understand the significance, the solemnity of this undertaking.

She grasped him, fastened her body firmly onto his, feeling like she was granted a glimpse into her future. Luke squeezed back, enveloping her frame in his own. There it was. She had finally been granted asylum. She had a sanctuary.

After a rough landing, they gathered their bags, seated patiently at the back of the plane, neither particularly overjoyed at the idea of returning to Stars Hollow. Shuffling forward down the aisle, Lorelai leaned back into Luke's chest as she walked, smiling when she reached the cockpit and caught the flight attendant's eye.

"Come again soon!" She said brightly, averting her eyes quickly to Luke.

Lorelai reached up to his ear while sauntering past and murmured inappropriately, "Oh my _God_ I can't stop thinking about that thing you were doing with your tongue last night."

Luke blushed feverishly, slinking an arm around her waist as they stepped off the plane. "Why did you _do_ that?" He snarled, pulling her close. "Everybody on the goddamn plane heard you."

She giggled, turning her head back to him. "Sorta the point."

The frequencies in that cold night air were comforting to him now that he was back in Connecticut. It filled him with a settled sense of relief to be back in familiar territory, at least geographically. He watched as she bounced backwards on the balls of her feet, away from him, eyes laughing.

"Are you going to be like this with every woman that talks to me?" He eyed her warily.

"Don't be silly, Luke. Women don't talk to you." She took his hand as they walked through the terminal.

There were people everywhere, he noticed, bags at their feet, rolling suitcases behind them as they strode in different directions. Going somewhere, leaving for somewhere, in movement, in transition.

Luke found himself suddenly wishing he were going somewhere as well, anywhere other than Stars Hollow, under the judgmental eyes of the town. He didn't want to go back to wiping down the counter while waiting desperately for her to drop in.

He'd never had the urge to leave before, that wanderlust thing that Liz was always talking about. He liked his roots, he liked having his feet planted firmly somewhere. But now that he finally had her, he wanted to be anywhere else, and with no one else. Just them.

And maybe some coffee, to keep her from complaining. That's a good idea. And a bed.

Lorelai saw him gazing at the listing of arrivals and departures above the archway. "Flight to Puerto Rico leaves in twenty minutes," she joked, poking him in the ribs. "Wanna go?"

He eventually tore his eyes from the board, looked down into her smiling face. "Um, yeah, you know I'd love to go with you, but Sookie's waiting out there." He pointed to the sliding doors, Sookie's minivan parked at the curb.

Lorelai didn't turn around; she continued to stare at him, tugging on his shirt. "Luke? Do you want to go?"

"We can't go," he protested, trying to figure out how serious she was. "Don't be ridiculous. We have jobs, and lives, and… stuff to do. And Sookie's right outside, what're we gonna do, ditch her?"

Lorelai grinned, pulling down on the back of his neck, pressing her body into his.

"Come on, Luke. Will you go with me?" She asked, breathing into his mouth.

He gathered her up into his arms, kissed her rosy cheeks and gave her a squeeze. "You sure?" he murmured into her ear.

She nodded.

"Then let's go."


End file.
